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macfrog · 1 month ago

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the jellyfish | one shot

today marks one year since i posted the fic i��m proudest of, san angelo. i loved this joel and this girl so much that even after i posted their story, i couldn’t shake them. i wrote a little extra for my own heart, never intending to share — but now feels as good a time as any. enjoy.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: they just drift, jellyfish. they go wherever the current takes ‘em. i think you and i were a little like that. i think the universe delivered me straight to you. warnings: story is inserted into canon, so all the expected major character deaths. star-crossed lovers who transcend universes to be together and all that good shit. word count: 5k

psst. you might wanna read this post before you jump into this fic. x

She comes through on the heels of a sunbeam.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Ten seconds or ten minutes or ten days, maybe – but she’s still a kid with rosy cheeks and plaid pajama pants, so you figure it can’t have been long.

No, it can’t have been long at all.

“Sarah?”

You push through the ghostly glow of a thousand other people. It’s iridescent chaos, wherever this place is. A flurry of panicked strangers – their forms hazy and only half-here.

They sweep from your path like silk. The screaming is deafening. Some are on their knees, sobbing into the nothingness. Others are searching every face, calling names you don’t recognize, crying out to a god or a universe you know is no longer listening.

All you know is this is it. Whatever you had, whatever you knew – it’s over now. All that’s left is here. Some kind of dreamscape, an astral plane.

If you didn’t know better, you’d call it heaven.

She looks just like the photographs he’d shown you. First day of school, he said – and he grinned wider than you’d been able to make him the entire night. Shoot, this one’s a little blurry, but – you see that trophy in her hand? Fifth-grade science fair. Smartest kid in her class.

“Sarah,” again.

She turns.

Her eyes meet yours, crystal blue and streaming. And as if she, too, knows your favorite superhero and the way you like your mac and cheese – she holds her arms out.

You pull her in, feeling her little hands lock around your waist. Your cheek falls to the crown of her head. She smells like bitter iron. It makes your teeth hurt.

She’s crying. Wetting the front of your shirt, pushing her face so hard into your tummy that she can barely even breathe.

“What happened?” you ask, cupping the back of her head.

Her hair is linen soft, fair and cropped at the top of her neck. Sweet like bubblegum pink shampoo, she smells just like strawberries.

“Tell me, honey – what happened?”

The smallest voice you’ve ever heard. She speaks between thick sniffles. “I don’t –” gasp, “– I don’t know.”

You kneel in front of her, cupping her cheeks. Your thumbs catch her tears as they come. “Where’s your dad?”

“I don’t know,” she sobs, and wraps herself around you again.

She asks who you are on the third day.

By now, you’re wandering around hand in hand. Things have settled, the pale fog has cleared. Your world is one of bursting greens and rolling blues; flowers which lift with the sun and sprawling hills which cushion her fall at the end of each day.

Gently, one by one, the others disappeared. Into the night, into the sun – into their own little corners of this world. You and Sarah are the only two left, settled in a snug valley populated by wildflowers and families of deer.

It’s better this way. It’s calmer. You can listen to the sway of the long grass, can pluck out the different types of bird just from their song.

You hush Sarah to sleep every night. You’ve managed to quieten her crying, had done by the second sunset. She has no reason to trust you, but she does – and you figure you owe it to him to watch over her, anyway.

At least until he gets here.

“I knew your daddy once,” you tell her, taking in the dusky pink sky. The sun is lowering. She’ll grow tired soon. He wouldn’t want her up past her bedtime. “We met a long time ago.”

“Did he like you?” she asks, earnestly – but you pause.

It rises from your chest like painful little bubbles, each one shattering more violently than the last. Tears spring along your waterline. You swallow the tremble in your voice.

“I hope so,” you whisper. “I liked him very much.”

She hums to herself, walking on. Her arms wrap tighter around the firewood she’s holding. “I bet he liked you just as much,” she says. “You musta been pretty special.”

It lingers for a moment. The beauty and the pain of it; the flood of violet that designs a fresh bruise. The memory swirls around you in the breeze.

In the next life.

Promise.

Sarah strolls off in the evening light. The clouds tint her hair a peachy rose. She’s already out of your reach.

The blood jumps in your veins. You gather your skirt and hurry back to her side, masking your nerves with a smile. “Well, I feel it,” you nudge her, “being in your company.”

She giggles for the first time since you found each other. This sweet little melody. It blends in with the birdsong.

The kid goes everywhere on your back.

Closer than your own shadow, hanging from your arm, watching everything you do with a filial affection. Becoming someone’s person wasn’t exactly something you meant to do, but then – neither was meeting her dad in a dive bar.

You’ve been dealt worse hands.

You braid her hair while you sit in the valley. Knots of gold threaded with daisies and dandelions. She names the deer and nods hello to each of them. She stands on your toes and walks backwards, squeals when you trip over one another and tumble across the bed of grass.

It’s not hard to see why he loved her so much. This little dove of a girl. Soft around the edges, a springtime sweetness to her like cherry blossom or fresh snowdrops. Something you want to cradle, tend to with careful hands and shield from the rest of the world.

She wraps her arms like twigs around your shoulders. She chatters in your ear about soccer and movies; asks to hear your favorite everything so she can compare it to hers.

She talks about him every day. Talks about him the same way he’d talked about her: laughter splitting her words, each one rounded by the toothy grin on her face.

When she sleeps, her head in your lap, your fingers sifting through her hair – you look for him. You try to find him.

It’s a gift and a curse that you always do.

Boston, at least at first. Gruesome and unforgiving. Dingy streets and dirty deals; a woman with a mind as sharp as her tongue. He trusts her. He feels safe around her. She relieves some of the ache in his chest and that relieves some of the ache in yours.

You walk in stride with them at night. You watch him break bone and break his own heart, over and over. He looks nothing like he did in San Angelo. His brother can’t look him in the eye anymore.

He’s an open wound. Agony from the inside out. A heart split like the skin over his knuckles.

You follow him back to his apartment and try to whisper words through the dark. Can you feel me? I’m here. I’m right here.

He only ever rolls over and scoops the bare pillow, wrapping his huge arm around it. He’s lonely, drowning in it, though he’d never admit it. He’d never admit any of it: he’s not hurting, he’s not grieving. He doesn’t remember her smile or the weight of her on his back.

That’s the thing. He remembers all of it. He can’t shake her from his shoulders. He can’t stop answering when he hears echoes of her voice. Crying only seems to pain him all the more, the burn of salt on his skin.

You curl up behind him, hoping he might feel your heartbeat through worlds. Hoping he might feel your arms around him and know, somehow, that he’s carrying his kid, too.

Sarah asks in the morning why your eyes are so red.

“No reason,” you reply, tucking a forget-me-not behind her ear. “Let’s go pick some apples.”

She slings herself over your back, an empty string bag dangling from her wrist. She kicks her legs as you wander from shade to shade, dodging the blazing sunlight.

Sarah’s no idiot. She’s her father’s daughter. She can feel the effort in every step, sense the burden heavy on your shoulders. She jokes that your shadows look like some kind of giant cockroach wearing a summer dress, and it makes you laugh.

In the orchard, she climbs up onto your shoulders. She reaches above, clawing for the shiniest ones. Deep reds with freckles just like hers.

“Be careful,” you mutter, feeling her rock with the branches to pick the best fruit. Your grip tightens around her ankles.

The fear sets like a pebble, heavy in your stomach. The same fear that sinks anytime she leaves your reach, the same fear that plummets when she’s shoulder-deep in the river and you think the current might sweep her off at any moment.

She’s not your kid. She’s not. But she’s his – and he was as much yours as anyone.

The sun flashes between the leaves, becoming too hot to stay out much longer. You must be in the thick of summer by now. It’s scorching.

“Sarah,” you plead, squinting up at her swaying silhouette. “Please be careful.”

“You got it,” she calls, voice strained. She plucks and plucks, a satisfied sigh with each apple she rolls into the bag.

Back home, you stand by the sink. The cool shade of the cottage, fruit bobbing in the water. Sarah wants to slice some of them, sit outside and watch the bees pollinate the flowers.

You flick your blade up, fishing the biggest apple. As you line the silver against the swollen skin, you feel her eyes on you.

“You okay, honey?”

She smiles. Her eyes flit to the blade in your hands, the droplet of juice dribbling between your knuckles. “Can I do it?”

“Chop the –?”

Sarah nods.

You look back down at your hands, hesitating. The blade winks back. Heat begins to creep up your spine. “I…I guess.”

She swaps positions, spreading her fingers over the fruit. Her small hands curve around the handle of the knife. The sight of it makes your stomach turn.

“Like this?” She positions it between her first and middle fingers.

You wince, laying your hands on her wrist. “Yeah,” you gulp, “but just be –”

“– careful?” she says, smirking. “Daddy lets me help him with the cookin’ all the time.”

Yeah, you think, that’s ‘cause Daddy can’t do it by himself.

The knife plunges down with a wet crunch. The halves roll apart. The air punches from your lungs.

Sarah looks up, bright eyes twinkling.

With a sickly anxiety, you realize she wants to do it again.

“Good job,” you say, voice wobbly, fists balling on the counter. Your nails dig into your palms. “Now, uh – now half ‘em again, and make sure you cut the seeds out. You eat the seeds, an apple tree grows in your belly.”

She snorts. “I know that ain’t true.”

The dragonflies hover politely near the river, metallic wings fluttering.

You lay a blanket down in the shade of a willow, fringed from the rest of the valley by its drooping curtain of leaves. You suckle on the shards of fruit, lips lined with a sticky sweet.

Sarah picks the best apples. You know this by now.

She sucks her fingers clean, staring at the sparkling river as it trickles by. You’ve been here longer than you could guess – longer than you care to – but still, she asks, “What if you’re lying?”

You dig between your teeth for apple skin. “Huh?”

“You said you knew my dad,” she says, turning back. She rubs one eye with her knuckle. “What if that’s not true?”

“Then I’d be pretty damn good at bluffing.”

She snickers. “I believe you,” she says, “I always did. There has to be some reason you found me.”

You sit back, leaning on the heels of your palms. Your chest swells with emotion, the lonely pain of waking up to an empty bed and an empty apartment.

“You like soccer,” you tell her. “You play for the…the Defenders, right? Number fourteen. You won your fifth-grade science fair with a project on jellyfish.”

Sarah looks down at the grass, cheeks lifting. She picks a daisy and twirls it between two fingers. “You remembered all that?”

“Like I said,” you sigh, “I liked your dad a lot.”

You keep looking for him every night.

He’s been out of Boston for a while, and you’re glad of it. He found himself a shadow of his own right before he left – a little girl with freckles and a light like sunshine.

Just like yours.

She’s spunky, she has heart, and she can kick ass. Every second word is a curse, feels like. She tells stupid jokes and she pulls on all the right threads. She’s unwinding him, and you’re sure neither one of them knows it yet.

She’s saving him.

You took to her the day they met. He took a little more convincing. You knew he’d come around eventually, and you spent weeks waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It didn’t happen so suddenly. Day by day, hour by hour, he mellowed. His bark quietened, the blaze in his chest tamed. Soon, he let her close enough to warm her hands.

And he was aglow all over again. He looked the way he had two decades before.

It must be years now – the way he’s grayed and she’s sprouted. You can’t keep up with the passing of seasons, the way their conversations change. Change and change and wither away.

And – just as you’ve adopted all the other scars and bruises and fractures in his soul – their distance hurts you just as much as it hurts him. It feels hollow, like his bones are protecting nothing. Ghostly. Barren.

The worst of his pain comes during a blizzard.

It’s a fucking mess, the entire thing. You can’t hear anything over the kid’s screaming. Faces keep bleeding in and out of view; grunts and gasps and terrible, terrible groans.

He’s on the floor – that’s what drew you in. He’s on the floor, broken in two. A mammoth captured in a snowstorm, slain in the basement of a mansion.

You wait for him to notice you. He’s come close before – scuffles in backstreets, on horseback with a puncture in his stomach – but he’s never looked at you before.

You stumble around the edge of the room, stifling your screaming as the girl’s arms lift again. The bite of metal is nauseating. The blood is spattered up the windows behind him.

A shell of himself – this man who once held you, whispered sweet nothings and silly jokes in your ear. Who held his palm open and let you trace over it, score secrets into the skin forever.

He’s done some shit, sure – but hasn’t everyone?

She brings the club down on his skull. His body bends in on itself, breaks in a way you never knew it could. He’s past able to make any sound. The size of him gives one final shudder, and just then –

He looks.

He looks you square in the eye.

Joel?

He blinks. A wet gurgle leaks from his lips.

Joel, can you –? Shit, can you see me right now?

It’s dribbling from his chin like tar. Thick and black. It runs quicker when his lips try to move.

You can, can’t you? You can see me.

His brother and kid are out cold. You step between them, whispering apologies as you pass, and kneel at Joel’s side.

I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay, baby, you’re okay.

Your eyes screw shut. He’s in your bed, his shitty Motorola in one hand and your fingers in the other. He smiles. He smiles and he laughs and he kisses you again.

God, Joel, you sob, I love you. I love you so much. Tell me what to do. I don’t know what to fucking do here.

Please. I need you to get up. Can you get up for me?

Can you – can you move? Can you hear me?

Joel?

Sarah brings you tea and sets it down on the table.

She sits beside you, tucking her knees right under her chin. She warns about the flies, says you’ll be drinking bug soup if you don’t get to it quick.

You force your lips into a smile and thank her, ruffling her sun-bleached hair. One tiny sip – only to please her – and your head rolls back, face skyward.

“Are you feeling better?” she asks, laying a hand over yours.

When she finally managed to wake you, you were both crying. She said your scream almost deafened her. She thought something terrible had happened, until she lit the lamp and saw you clutching your bedsheets, sobbing into the cotton in your sleep.

You squeeze her fingers. “Yes,” you lie. “I’m sorry I scared you. It was just a bad dream.”

“I used to have those sometimes,” she says, sniffing. She rubs her nose with the back of her hand. “Not since I came here.”

“You know what it is?” You turn to look at her, one eye closed in the sunlight. “I ate cheese before bed. Cheese gives you funny dreams.”

Her head tips back with a giggle. “No, it doesn’t. That’s so silly.”

You lift your eyebrows. “I blame the cheese, Sarah Miller.”

She nudges the mug an inch closer, and you take another sip.

It’s good – the tea. She knows exactly how long to brew it for, exactly how much sugar you like. It’s as if she counts the granules by hand – and, if you know Sarah, you wouldn’t put it past her.

You balance the warm mug on your breastbone. “Wanna help me hang the sheets up?”

She nods. Always eager to help, eager to do everything and anything. She disappears back into the cottage and you listen for the sloshing of water, the wet slap of the sheets being flung into a basket.

Nothing has come of it. Your dream. No knock at the door, no calls of either of your names echoing through the valley. After you convinced Sarah to go back to sleep, you stood outside and listened to the wind for forty-five minutes.

He is not here.

It’s the first time you’ve ever wondered where here really is, anyway. For this long, it’s been yours and Sarah’s. A secret kingdom in some dusty shelf in the universe; pixies and sunshine and splitting apples by the river.

You don’t want any of it, if he’s not here.

You’ll pack a bag, pull Sarah over your back. Find somewhere else. Somewhere with room for him, too. She needs her dad, and you need your – well.

Sarah meets you by the clothesline. She drops the basket with a sigh, then twirls around the pole as you untangle the sheets. She spirals until she’s sat on the grass, legs crossed, passing you clothespins as you work.

“I was thinking we could stay up late tonight,” you say, slotting a pin over the sheet. Forcing a casual air through your voice, trying to keep it steady. “Watch the sky for a little while, maybe hunt for shooting stars.”

You’re only trying to wring out the hours you’ll be without him. You don’t want to spend the night staring at the ceiling, slowly forgetting what he looks like.

Sarah says nothing. She knows you’re full of it. She leans forward and picks a ladybug from your skirt, rotates her hand to count its spots.

The sheets lift in the breeze, billowing and twisting around one another. The clouds turn over – rolling from perfectly white to an afternoon blush. The world is preparing to turn in already.

And that’s when she says it.

“Daddy?”

Your back is turned. You’re sipping at your tea. “What, honey?”

She pulls herself up and steps forward. She walks through the sheets, ducking her head to miss their brilliant flashes. Staring straight ahead at something you can’t see yet.

“Dad…”

In one swipe of the linen, she’s gone.

With a gasp, she sprints off downhill. She screams as she goes, footsteps thundering through the valley.

“Sarah!” you yelp, swatting the laundry out of the way. It swirls around your arms, waving across your vision in a white smirk. “Sarah, come back –”

The fabric spills over your arm when you lift it. Your heart stops short in your throat.

He’s knelt in the grass, arms wide open. Same jeans, same wintery boots. He flicks his fingers and his little girl collides with him, her tiny body crashing into his.

They roll back into the soft grass and for a few seconds, they disappear. But as quickly as your heart stops, it starts again. He rises from the flora, Sarah in his arms.

He nuzzles his face into her shoulder. He’s sobbing, you can hear it from way up here. Sobbing, then roaring with laughter, then gasping for air – though he won’t pull away from his little girl long enough to breathe.

They have the same laugh. The exact same. It echoes between them, this delighted string of sound. That hearty, giddy laugh.

She stands straight, still holding tightly onto him. Like she’s scared if she lets go, she’ll lose him again. Planted between his knees, fixing threads of silver hair from his eyes. Talking to him, yapping and giggling, her head bobbing all over the place.

He talks straight back – bass voice even deeper than you remember. The only words you can make out are baby girl. He can’t stop stroking her hair, can’t stop bursting into euphoric laughter.

After a minute, he stands. One hand locked in hers, arms swinging. He scopes the valley, murmuring something to his daughter while shaking his head in disbelief.

She points everything out to him. The hills and their peaks. The spot where the sun rises and the spot where it sets. The willow by the riverside, the knolls where the rabbits burrow. And then – she spins around and points to you.

Your hands knot at your stomach.

Shielding his eyes with his arm, he looks up and spots you. He pauses for a few seconds, just stares and stares. He doesn’t move until Sarah tugs on his wrist.

She drags him the whole way back to the cottage. “It’s…it’s…” she pants, squirming with joy as she hauls both of them uphill. She takes your outstretched hand and shakes it. “It’s my dad!”

“Sure is,” you whisper. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to think. It hurts to be so close to him and still nowhere near enough.

Joel mirrors your expression, loose with shock. He reaches the yard and sighs. His shoulders rise and fall with the effort of his breath, sweat lining his brow.

He’s older. Of course he is, it’s been twenty-five years. Salt and pepper, just like your dreams. More wrinkles, more scars – though, in the sunlight, he looks just like the man you knew. Those same embers of light in his eyes, smirk unconcealable even behind his thicker beard.

He looks the exact same. He never changed a day.

“She said she knew you from long ago, Dad,” says Sarah, beaming up at him. She won’t let go of either of your hands, a little chain link between this world and the last. She blinks back and forth between you.

“Yeah, baby girl,” he finally says, and you hear that familiar sandpaper rasp, smoothed over by a lacquer drawl. “We knew each other pretty well.”

The girl squints in the sun. “She taught me how to make tea. You want some tea?”

He finally drops your gaze. He looks down to Sarah and smiles tenderly. “I would love some tea.”

She squeezes your hand, then turns on her heel and skips back to the house.

Joel watches as she disappears into the kitchen, then turns his attention back to you.

His hairline is rusted with dry blood, eyes still a little bleary. His blood-soaked jacket is gone – and, if you know him half as well as you think you do, you know he rid himself of it sometime before his daughter noticed him.

He hooks a thumb through his belt loop and smiles, perplexed. He drags a heel through the terrain, stones scuffing under his boot. He lifts a finger and points in your direction.

“Mind’s still a little hazy,” he says. “Have we met?”

It floods through your body. That same twenty-something-year-old feeling. A kiddish glee, a teenage flush. You bite right into it.

“I was wondering the same thing. You look familiar. Did you do something with your hair?”

His head tips. He runs his hand through the flicks of hair by his neck. “That oughta be it. I grew it out,” he drags his fingers down his jaw, “Grew out my beard, too.”

“Mm. Yeah, I see that. Looks good.”

Your voice is breaking. It’d be embarrassing if you were paying attention to it.

His arms cross. “You look good. You look beautiful.”

Another little hm. Then –

“If you don’t touch me right now, I’m going to scream.”

And he jumps.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you suddenly and heavily against his chest. He’s so solid and yet so soft; so weathered and still the safest thing you’ve ever known. He feels just like he did all those years ago.

“Joel,” you sob into his shirt, and he kisses your head.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers into your hair, sniffling. He kisses down your neck and across your shoulder.

“Hi,” you weep. You pull back, cradled in his arms, blinking through your tears.

His cheeks are glistening, eyes streaming all over again. He laughs with you, shaking his head. “Jesus,” he chuckles, “look at us.”

You nuzzle into his palm, closing your eyes. “I missed you so much,” you whisper.

“Oh, darlin’,” Joel strokes your cheek, “I missed you, too. I thought about you every day. Every –”

“– damn day,” you echo. “Me, too.”

“I wish I’d gone back for you,” he admits. “I should’ve found you, I –”

“Hey,” you lift his jaw and press your forehead to his, “You found me. I’m right here, see? Feel me? You ain’t gotta worry anymore. You found us.”

He pulls you into the same bear hug again. He squeezes tight and breathes in your hair.

“This is where you’ve been?” he asks, still drinking in the expanse of the valley.

“Yep,” you mumble into his chest.

He kisses your forehead. “And you looked after my little girl?”

“She looked after me, too.”

He laughs, tears slipping though his beard into your hair. “How? I mean – how?”

“She just – appeared. Right in front of me. Like it was meant to be.”

“That night?”

You nod, welling up. “I was already gone, Joel.”

He turns away for a second, pain twisting across his face. He holds you protectively. “Baby,” his voice breaks, “I’m so sorry.”

You press your fingers to his lips.

It needn’t matter now. None of it. Not here, where the sun drowns the valley each morning and the flowers dance in the breeze. Not here, where you and Sarah played handclaps and you taught her how to make daisy chains.

Not here – where the universe finally gave him back to you.

“It happened,” you shrug, “Look where I wound up.”

He nods, but you know it’s a bruise. You know it matters to him. Matters more than any of the rest of it. You can feel his heart throbbing in his chest.

“The next life,” Joel whispers. “Is this the one I get to keep you in?”

You smile. “Yup.”

He hums, playing with your hands. His head drops and he takes a deep, painful breath.

“There are some things you should know about,” he says – and for the first time, it’s like he’s uncomfortable. “Things that probably got a lot to do with why I’m here.”

“I already know,” you say. “I was with you the whole time.”

“You were?”

Your eyes close. “Mhm.”

“Shit,” Joel winces, “I never wanted you to see –”

“Shh.”

You take his hand and open his palm. It feels like velvet against your lips; as warm as the day you met. You kiss each mount, each plain of skin. When you pull away, you run your fingers over the same lines you read all that time ago.

“See? Still the same,” you reassure him, smiling. “You’re still my Joel.”

“Your Joel,” he teases. He tightens around you again, nuzzling your nose with his own. “That who I am, huh?”

“Uhuh,” you giggle, squirming when he tickles your waist.

His lips find yours in a crash of a kiss – a hungry, messy thing. His hands on your jaw, yours in his hair. Vanilla and pine, the scent of home you’ve been searching for ever since that very first night.

You tug gently and Joel groans into your mouth, his tongue rolling against yours. He tastes like beer and second-hand smoke, like the pinch of lime and the sting of love. He tastes like you, like twenty years too long apart.

He tastes like forever still to come.

The wind picks up and swirls around you both. The sun washes over your skin. The sheets snap back and forth, drumming over the kettle’s whistle inside.

“C’mon,” you whisper, leading him to the door. “Your daughter makes the best tea in the world.”

“Hey,” he says, reeling you back in against his body. He smooths your skin with his thumb. The same honey glow in his eyes, the same hidden magic.

“I love you,” he says. “I loved you the minute I saw you at that bar. Loved you no matter how many miles or worlds were between us. It’s the one thing that never changed.”

You smile, bringing his hand to your lips.

“It’s over now, Joel. You can come home.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #fic: the jellyfish

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sunarryn · 1 month ago

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DP X Marvel #1

Don’t get me wrong—I love DP X DC, but I want more post for DP X Marvel, so I decided to write my own.

Danny had been in Amity Park, dodging international press, paparazzi, and the occasional FBI van parked outside his house, because, well, saving the world and exposing the existence of ghosts kind of made him a big deal. The whole “I’m actually Phantom” reveal had sent the world into a meltdown, with headlines like “Teen Ghostboy Saves Earth, Wears Same Hoodie for Six Days” and “Should Phantom Pay Taxes?” clogging up the internet.

That’s when Tony Stark showed up.

In person.

“You ever consider switching teams?” Tony asked while eating a hotdog in Danny’s kitchen like he owned the place. “I don’t mean ghost to human. I mean ghost to Avenger.”

Danny, halfway through microwaving leftover pizza, blinked. “Is this a recruitment thing or are you just lost?”

“A little of both.” Tony admitted. “I’ve got a proposition for you. Comes with a full scholarship, housing, no taxes, and a lifetime supply of Pop-Tarts.”

“…Okay but like. Why Pop-Tarts?”

“I have a theory about your ghost metabolism and artificial preservatives.” Tony said, waving his hand like it was normal science and not the start of an exorcism. “Anyway. Stark Industries internship. Full ride to Midtown School of Science and Technology. We pretend this is for science—understanding ghosts and ectoplasm and your stupid glowy ice powers or whatever—and I get to say I recruited the coolest teen superhero before the other billionaires.”

“You just don’t want me joining Batman.” Danny muttered.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say the B-word in my presence.”

So that’s how Danny Fenton—Amity Park’s favorite undead menace—ended up in New York City, living in a swanky Stark-funded high-rise with a fully stocked lab, an entire ghost-proof gym, and a contract that explicitly stated “NO OPENING INTERDIMENSIONAL PORTALS BEFORE 9AM” in Comic Sans.

Midtown High was wild. First of all, every student looked like they either had a skincare sponsorship or fought crime on the weekends. Second, the STEM program had actual quantum computers. Danny’s old school had a vending machine that exploded if you pressed B5 twice.

Third: Peter Parker.

Danny met him on his first day, right after being hit by a rogue drone in robotics class and slamming face-first into a whiteboard that read “No running in the lab.”

Peter looked down at him. “You good, man?”

Danny blinked. “Spider-Man?”

Peter blinked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Danny smirked. “Uh-huh. Tony says hi.”

Peter yanked him up by the arm and shoved him into a janitor’s closet so fast it could’ve given someone whiplash.

“Shh!” Peter exclaimed. “You can’t just say that out loud! People don’t know!”

Danny shrugged, now intangibly phasing halfway through a mop bucket. “Relax. Everyone already knows I’m Phantom. It’s not like we’re on equal secret identity footing here.”

Peter blinked at that. “Wait, you’re Phantom? Like THE Phantom?”

Danny stuck his head through the wall dramatically. “Boo.”

Peter shrieked and punched him. Which didn’t work. At all. From then on, they were inseparable.

Mostly because Tony made them sit next to each other at every Stark-sponsored science conference with assigned seating and a label that said “Teen Angst Section.�� But also because they kind of understood each other. Weird powers. Exhausting double lives. Constant media attention. Love lives that were mostly disaster zones.

Also, because every time there was an emergency in New York, Danny would dramatically yell, “I GOT THIS!” turn into a glowing ghost, phase through the ceiling, and leave Peter holding their science project like, “Great. Now I have to explain this to Ms. Warren.”

There was a running bet in the school on how many times a week Danny would ghost out during class. The record was four times in a single Monday. Once during math. Twice during lunch. Once mid-presentation, when his eyes flashed green, and he mumbled, “Hold up, I think a ghost just tried to eat a nun,” before vanishing.

He got an A. Mostly out of fear.

They became known around Midtown as “Science Boyfriends,” a term coined by their English teacher after they accidentally blew up the chemistry lab and rebuilt it with better airflow and a smoothie bar.

Peter tried to deny it. Danny didn’t.

“I mean, he’s cute.” Danny would shrug while eating a granola bar and floating upside-down. “And have you seen his calves? Spider thighs? Man’s got spider thighs.”

Peter threatened to web his mouth shut. Danny turned intangible and said “do it, coward.”

Happy Hogan was having a mental breakdown.

“Mr. Stark.” He said once, after catching Danny phasing through a vending machine and Peter falling out of a ceiling vent. “They’re going to destroy the school.”

“They’re already destroying my will to live.” Tony muttered, sipping coffee while watching Phantom carry Spider-Man bridal-style on a street livestream. “But you can’t deny the brand synergy.”

And oh, the public loved Danny.

Kids wore Phantom backpacks. There was a whole TikTok trend called “Go Ghost Challenge” which was just teens flinging themselves over furniture in hopes of catching flight. People stopped him on the street for selfies. A company released a Ghost Repellent Spray that was literally just Febreze with a green label.

Meanwhile, Danny and Peter were balancing AP Physics, ghost attacks, Stark internships, and trying to keep a low profile despite Danny being literally neon.

Peter was this close to combusting.

“I can’t keep doing this.” Peter whispered during lunch, forehead pressed against a table. “My GPA is dying. I’m dying. My soul is cracking. I haven’t slept in three days.”

Danny, completely fine, sipping chocolate milk through a straw, replied, “I think a banshee tried to possess the home ec teacher.”

Peter stared. “… Danny.”

“Her cupcakes were glowing.”

“DANIEL JAMES!”

It didn’t help that the media kept speculating if Phantom was dating Spider-Man. There were articles like “Who’s the Top Ghost? Our Editors Discuss” and “Teen Heroes: Roommates or Soulmates?” Danny read them out loud during lunch.

Peter screamed into a burrito.

And then there was that time someone tried to kidnap Peter during gym class. Bad idea. Danny turned invisible, slammed the guy through the bleachers, and then flew Peter to safety in front of the entire school.

“You didn’t have to carry me!” Peter hissed later. “I had it under control.”

“You were duct-taped to a chair.” Danny pointed out.

“I was about to chew through the tape!”

“Like a squirrel.”

“Like a spider!”

After that, it wasn’t just the school that shipped them. The city did. There were shirts. Stickers. Fanfiction. Someone made a rap.

Tony started selling merch.

“We’re not even dating!” Peter yelled one afternoon, dodging a drone with their faces painted on it.

Danny just winked. “Yet.”

And honestly? They made a good team.

When ghosts got loose, Danny handled the supernatural. When aliens showed up, Peter webbed ‘em to the nearest wall. When things exploded, they blamed Flash Thompson.

Midtown might have been chaos. Their lives might have been actual flaming garbage fires. But in the middle of it all, Danny and Peter were the weirdest, most terrifying, most effective duo the teen superhero world had ever seen.

One had ghost lasers.

The other had web shooters.

Both had the fashion sense of stressed-out raccoons.

And somehow, they made it work.

Until Danny accidentally opened a portal to the Ghost Zone during prom. But that’s a story for another day.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #marvel #marvel mcu #mcu fandom #mcu #tony stark #peter parker #spiderman #dp x marvel

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artbyblastweave · 15 days ago

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Growing up I used to talk shop with my father about superheroes. He grew up in the 60s, and he watched the DCAU justice league cartoon with us when we were growing up. And one thing he mentioned stuck out to him was that in the 60s, basically everyone in the League was, in their solo books, The Hero. There was no speciation in personality because in the context of each individual solo book the speciation was between The Hero and whatever the personalities were amongst their supporting cast. His experience was that each of the headliners were just running HeroPersonality.exe, Flash was Green Lantern was Superman- and the consequence of putting all of them in an ensemble was, in his words, like having Six Supermen. He credited this with his shift towards Marvel, where he felt like there was more of a draw to seeing two different headliners teaming up with each other- it's not just going to be two Supermen in the room with each other, Spidey has a meaningfully different outlook from the Fantastic Four and so on. This was truthy, filtered through his perceptions of his own childhood, and now you're getting it third hand through my perceptions of my childhood- but, you know. I've read silver age stuff. This doesn't seem wrong.

Anyway, what this led into was his assessment of the DCAU justice league roster, where he said that it felt to him like they were doing the work to make sure that you couldn't just use these people interchangeably in each other's beats, giving them specific personality quirks that didn't map to anything he recalled reading their books growing up (pos). Which led into his assessment of the Flash, and how he could see the exact chain of logic that produced DCAU Flash's personality. Because if you need to create seven distinct personalities, probably you need one who's the dedicated comic relief. And if you need to solve the classic problem of preventing a guy with super speed from just immediately solving every single problem, the path of least resistance is to give that story-breaking power to a guy who is, if not God's Perfect Idiot, at least God's Perfect Selectively-Attentive Class Clown. In a vacuum the prospect of tripping a speedster is eye-roll-inducing. But it's at least emotionally plausible when someone manages to trip DCAU Wally West.

#DCAU #thoughts #meta #justice league #eulogizin'#the flash #wally west #justice league unlimited

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vettelsvee · 3 months ago

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THE CALL OF LOVE | Sebastian Vettel

Primary School Teacher!Sebastian Vettel x Primary School Teacher!Reader ↳ Teacher AU ⋆ Part of CLASSROOM GOSSIPS

SUMMARY: Seb is the cool, annoying, extroverted teacher, while you are the shy, introverted and perfectionist one. Seb phones you all the time because he wants to get closer with you somehow but, also, he knows that you suffer from pretty bad anxiety and wants to respect your boundaries. However, when you have to go to Seb's class and ask him for help after your classroom becomes pure chaos, he finds the perfect opportunity to become closer with you... only to find out that, definitely, you want to get closer with him as well even your anxiety says otherwise ↳ BASED ON THIS POST I MADE TODAY!

WORD COUNT: 4798

WARNINGS: Mentions of anxiety, curse words. Lots of fluff (I loved this Seb btw).

TAGLIST: @koalapastries @blushmimi @herdetectivetheorist @awnmaneez

VEE'S NOTES: Third Teacher!Seb fic in a row since you asked! Hope you liked it as much as I loved writing it! Thank you for all the love you're giving to this, really, I'm so grateful <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

Although it wasn’t enough for many, you were more than happy being a teacher at one of the most well-known schools in Heppenheim, a small town in Germany.

Now that you had achieved your dream, all you wanted was things to flow perfectly. The main problem? Your anxiety and constant need for perfection, which were the most notable things about you. On top of that, there was the strict routine that was almost impossible to deviate from. However, the real problem lay in everything related to socializing... not with your students or their parents, but with the rest of the teachers.

Sebastian Vettel, the teacher of the other 2nd grade class, had also started working there that same year. Although you initially thought your relationship would be a calm one, the reality was far from that. Seb was the complete opposite of you: a walking chaos, with more than enough confidence and a charm that made him some kind of superhero to his students.

You tried your best to keep a professional relationship with him, but it was impossible. When you wanted to do a project on biodiversity with perfectly structured activities aligned with the curriculum, Seb preferred to take them outside to let them see it for themselves. If you thought it would be a great idea for them to write a small essay about Christmas, Seb preferred to show them a movie because, in his words, “they would have time to write when they’re older.”

And if that wasn’t enough, Sebastian had the annoying habit of calling your classroom phone several times a day with ridiculous questions:

“Miss Y/L/N speaking,” you answered as calmly as you could, while still supervising your students coloring.

“Y/N!” Sebastian shouted from the other end of the line. “Hey, quick question... Do our students need permission from their parents to go out?”

“To go out? Do you mean… recess?” you frowned.

“Of course!”

“No, Sebastian, the kids don’t need permission to go out during break. It's mandatory,” you added with a hint of sarcasm.

“Great, thanks! By the way, did you know the hold music is super cute? I thought you'd want to know since it's as cute as you and…”

You hung up before he could continue.

The next day, the same thing: Sebastian called just to ask whether necessary needed one "c" or two. The day after, it was to ask whether the coffee in the teacher's lounge was free.

It was never anything serious. There was never an emergency or anything like that. It was simply Sebastian Vettel asking you the most stupid things, things he already knew perfectly well. Despite that, you forced yourself to answer the phone, trying to calm your anxiety while giving him a quick, convincing response to get him off the line, before hanging up.

You knew you could ignore him, but deep down, this strange routine had become your favorite part of the day.

And, unbeknownst to you, for Sebastian, it had too.

Seb knew exactly how you felt about him; about any interaction with your colleagues, in fact. He was fully aware that you were a little scared of speaking in public. He could tell by moments like when you nervously played with a pink pen with butterflies every time you had to speak during staff meetings, or when during the Christmas play, just before going on stage with him and your students, you excused yourself by saying you were about to vomit... something that wasn’t entirely an excuse.

To him, you were the brightest person he had ever met. The way you taught, how you cared for your students, how he noticed you watching him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention... Seb knew that being this persistent could have the opposite effect on you, but as much as he wanted to take a step forward and maybe become a friend, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or pressure you into anything you didn’t want.

So, Sebastian decided to stop calling you.

You were puzzled when the phone didn’t ring. At first, you considered it a good thing, but as the hours went by, you realized something was missing.

The day felt endless, something that rarely happened to you. The same went for your mood, which had plummeted. And as if that weren’t enough, the art class turned into an absolute disaster, and you didn’t know how to manage it, no matter how hard you tried to calm your anxiety and think of alternatives to wrap it up as soon as possible.

Your students only needed a few minutes working on their own, making animals out of paper-mâché, while you corrected math tests, to turn the class into a total mess. There were strips of paper everywhere. The younger kids had glue all over their hands, leaving trails everywhere. One of the blue paint cans had even fallen to the floor, spreading quickly.

To make matters worse, when you tried calling Sebastian to see if he could bring you a mop, the phone decided to stop working.

You sighed and looked at the door separating your classroom from his, realizing that you had no choice but to admit to yourself that, as hard as it was to ask, you needed help.

Without saying anything to your students, you took a deep breath and shyly cracked open the door.

Sebastian was sitting at his desk, gesturing dramatically with his hands while his students stared at him as he seemed to be telling them a story.

"So, there I was, in front of a goat, after losing my parents. And do you know what happened next?" he said, walking dramatically and opening his eyes wide.

“What happened, Mr. Vettel?!” the kids shouted.

“The goat ate the sandwich my mom had made me for the trip.”

The class burst into laughter.

You couldn’t help it and laughed too, stopping when the embarrassment of having to interrupt the class just to ask for help washed over you once again. You couldn’t just walk in there like it was nothing, and—

“Oh my goodness! Look, kids, we have a surprise guest!”

You paled. The 30 second graders all turned towards you at once, their faces lighting up as if they’d seen an alien.

Then, they started chanting your name and running toward you to hug you, forcing you to step inside. Sebastian hopped down from his desk and approached you, arms crossed and wearing a smile that, if you were honest with yourself, you were dying to see.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Miss Y/L/N?”

You clenched your fists, knowing there was no way around it.

“Well… I need your help, Mr. Vettel,” you admitted in a low voice.

Sebastian blinked. Although it took him completely by surprise, he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he turned to his students.

“Alright, kiddos. I need you to be really good and stay quiet for a moment while I help our favorite teacher, okay? I’m right here, so if I hear any shouting, I’ll take away your snacks and Friday’s movie tradition.”

A collective gasp spread through the class, but Sebastian didn’t have to say anything else. Immediately, all the kids went back to their seats and pulled out books to read.

To your surprise, they didn’t make another sound.

“Come on, Miss Y/L/N, lead the way.”

You followed his lead, and then it was you who invited Seb to come in. Once he stepped inside, the German had no words. Instead, his eyes started to scan the room.

“Wow…”

“Yeah, I know…” you sighed.

Sebastian slowly turned to face you, trying not to laugh. Of all the chaos, what surprised him most was that one of the kids, named Martin, had his shirt stuck to the chair, covered in glue, and three desks were completely covered in the same blue paint that was on the floor. To top it off, the stain you had seen moments ago had spread not only on the floor but also on the clothes and faces of many of your students.

That’s when you realized the worst.

A group of girls was standing, whispering to each other, around the hamster cage in the class... which was empty.

“Y/N…” Seb lowered his voice. “Tell me the hamster’s in the cage, but I don’t see it…”

“It’s somewhere in the classroom. The problem is, I don’t know where, and there’s only half an hour left before the day ends…” You admitted, feeling quite embarrassed.

“Are you telling me there’s a dwarf hamster loose around here?”

“Are you going to help me or what?” you snapped, frustrated, glaring at him. “Look, Sebastian… We don’t have much time before we have to leave, and if I don’t get the kids out at the exact time, just like they were brought in, you know the parents are going to go crazy…”

“Relax, Y/N. I got it.”

You didn’t have much idea what could be going through Sebastian’s head, let alone how he’d manage to fix this, but you tried to relax and give him a chance for everything to return to normal little by little.

To your surprise, that’s exactly what happened.

Not only did he divide the children into small groups to do simple tasks, like going to the bathroom to clean up, looking for the class hamster (which they found almost immediately, curled up beside a cabinet), or collecting the materials they’d used and putting them away, but he also took both classes to the school exit so you wouldn’t have to face desperate parents asking why their kids looked like they’d just been on a jungle expedition.

The bell marking the end of school had rung half an hour ago, and you were fully aware that most teachers had probably packed up and gone home by now. Sebastian hadn’t even appeared to tell you that his students had returned safely to their parents, and, for a reason you knew all too well, that disappointed you.

You sighed, trying to let go of those thoughts and illusions that shouldn’t matter so much. Instead, you focused on the pile of papers on your desk, the art supplies that still hadn’t been put away, and the paint that, no matter how hard you tried to clean it off the floor, seemed impossible to remove. You decided to calm down and start with something simple, like putting away the materials and picking up tiny pieces of paper from the floor.

“Do you know school’s over for today, right?”

You turned to the door. Sebastian was leaning against it, arms crossed and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He threw his backpack on the floor and walked over to sit next to you, helping you pick up the papers without any explanation.

“No… I didn’t hear you come in…” you confessed in surprise. And I wasn’t expecting you, you thought.

“That’s because I’m as sneaky as a ninja. The kids tell me that all the time,” he smiled, glancing at you sideways.

Seb continued his task, silent, scanning the classroom. It was no longer the disaster it had been just an hour ago. Now, the desks were perfectly grouped in fives, the class materials seemed to finally be in place, and, to your surprise, the stains had disappeared from everywhere.

“Y/N, you should go home,” Sebastian told you, standing up and helping you to do the same.

“I just need to finish cleaning up a little more…”

“Or you could not do that,” he interrupted.

You let out a small laugh for the first time that day, carefree. You were nervous and exhausted, and Seb knew that perfectly well.

“I just want to make sure everything’s perfect for tomorrow,” you admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“We managed to not kill a hamster with twenty-something kids running around and stopped the paint from getting on the walls, and you’re telling me you want to make sure everything’s perfect for tomorrow?”

“Well… yes,” you answered, looking down and biting your lip.

“That’s pretty adorable, honestly,” Sebastian said. Realizing what he’d just said, and that it might make you uncomfortable, he corrected himself. “I mean, as in your passion for teaching and everything…”

Stop fooling yourself and be honest with her, Sebastian.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s that, but…” you tried to articulate, your cheeks completely red.

“Well, the thing is: what else can I help you with?” Sebastian asked, unable to stop smiling. The fact that you were embarrassed by something so simple seemed so cute to him that he couldn’t stop looking at you.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, what can I help you with, Y/N?” he repeated slowly.

“Well… the truth is, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” Sebastian interrupted. “But I want to help you.”

You stared at him, unable to respond. You were used to helping people, not being helped yourself, and that left you speechless.

“What’s left to do?” Vettel insisted with care, moving a little closer to you while still keeping his distance.

“If you want, you can put the exams on the desk into the folders beside them,” you finally said, giving up.

“On it, Miss Y/L/N.”

“But really, Sebastian, you don’t have to—”

“If you tell me again you don’t need help, I’ll have to punish you with no recess.”

You burst out laughing, and to Sebastian, it sounded like pure medicine. For the first time that day, you didn’t feel like a total failure.

You worked in complete silence, letting time pass as you finished organizing everything. When you were finally done, you slumped into the chair and started checking your emails, wondering if any parent had decided to make your day even worse by sending a complaint after the day you’d had. To your surprise, there was nothing. What did surprise you, though, was that Seb came in with two cups of hot chocolate and a bag of sweets that, even more surprisingly, were your favorites.

“Here you go,” he said, offering you one of the cups while placing the bag on the table. “You were so focused that I didn’t want to bother you by saying I was leaving. And, well… I also wanted to brighten your day a little.”

You thanked him with a smile and didn’t hesitate to try the chocolate, which tasted like a real victory after such a bittersweet day.

Then, you closed your computer, put it in your bag, and, to your surprise and his, turned your chair to face him.

“What’s going on?” you said, noticing that Seb was looking at you… strangely.

“Nothing. It’s just… you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, not knowing what else to say. Instead, he shook his head and set his mind on doing what he had promised himself when he started working there: to try to become friends with you.

“Tell me about Miss Y/L/N’s teaching philosophy,” he finally said.

“Excuse me?” you hesitated.

“Come on, let’s go. I know you have one. You take this job too seriously not to have some kind of ritual or something to make everything go perfectly…”

“Except for today,” you replied.

Seb didn’t say anything because he knew how much you’d keep beating yourself up. Instead, he took a chocolate from the bag he had brought, unwrapped it, and placed it beside you. You finally accepted it without complaint, but with a smile in return.

“Well… I guess I want them to feel safe,” you started to say. “I want them to know that no matter what happens, it’s okay to make mistakes or not be perfect sometimes… I want them to know that I’m here for whatever they need, and that they can be great people in the future.”

“That’s amazing, Y/N,” Seb nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off you.

“It’s not a big deal…”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “You care a lot, don’t you?”

“More than you can imagine…” you swallowed, feeling a little vulnerable.

“I can see that perfectly, yes.”

“Really?”

“Seb nodded, playing with his mug.”

“You’re always the first one to arrive, and I’d swear the last one to leave. You do the most original activities and, at the same time, try not to die in the process, even though today was the exact opposite,” you both laughed. “You want to be perfect for them and try to give your best.”

“Is that bad?” you asked cautiously, tensing up a little.

“Not at all,” Seb answered immediately. “But sometimes I think you should stop being so hard on yourself and just go with the flow. You know... let things just happen by themselves.”

You were about to answer, but he continued:

“You’re a great teacher, Y/N. You don’t need to prove it to anyone but yourself, okay?”

Something in your chest tightened. You weren’t used to hearing things like that, especially not from your colleagues.

Or maybe you never gave yourself the chance for someone to recognize your well-done work, thinking it had never been, and would never be, enough.

You kept talking to Sebastian about a bit of everything, feeling right at home. The hours passed, and between questions about how you both ended up being teachers, what motivated you to dedicate your life to it, and how you both ended up in Heppenheim, it was already 7 PM.

You glanced at the clock and immediately stood up, quickly starting to gather your things, which made Seb alarmed.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, worried.

“I should go…” you said, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. “I need to catch the bus before it gets too late. It’s the last one of the day and…”

“Wait,” he interrupted you. “You take the bus home?”

“Uh... yeah?”

“This late?”

“I’ve been doing it since I moved here, so it’s nothing new.”

“And no one’s offered to take you home? Not even to share fuel expenses and stuff?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “From now on, I’ll take you home.”

Your eyes widened, surprised.

“Sebastian, you really don’t have to…”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” he cut you off, taking your backpack, offering his hand, and leading you out of the classroom, making sure to turn off the lights before you left.

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

“Do you think you’re a bother just because I want to take you home and make sure you arrive safe?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway and still looking at you. “I’d be a terrible friend if I let you go alone on the bus, especially this late with all the drunk creeps around.”

You froze. Friend.

“Come on, let’s go,” Seb spoke again. This time, noticing you were shivering, he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from your nervousness, so he decided to put his jacket over your shoulders. “The day you let me help you a little more, we’ll be the best team the world’s ever seen.”

You didn’t say anything else until you reached Sebastian's car. Not even when you sat inside after Seb opened the door for you and turned the heat on full blast.

“Well…” Seb broke the silence as he placed his hands on the steering wheel. “Where to, Y/L/N?”

“You want me to guide you all the way?”

“Do you expect me to guess the way?” Vettel joked. “Y/N, I’ve got balls, but none of them are crystal, so…”

Embarrassed, and especially starting to overthink whether Seb would start judging you not only for your answer but for the entire day you spent together, you simply gave him the directions.

Seb, knowing you might be feeling down and, unlike the whole afternoon when you talked about everything, seeing you retreat into yourself again, started asking you a bit of everything. Why did you decide to move to Heppenheim, such a small town? What was your favorite place? Did you like your neighborhood?

You weren’t used to that flood of questions, and especially not to people showing interest in you. Since you were very young, you always felt left out, like you didn’t belong to any group...

But with Seb, it was different. It was like he actually cared about you, and you couldn’t help but feel incredibly good about it.

“I like the new neighborhood. Quite cozy and nice...”

Seb parked the car in a small free spot in front of the apartment block where you lived. Then, he turned toward you with a smile, placing his arm behind your seat.

“It’s very quiet, which is great when I need to grade or when I just want to read and relax.”

“Oh, are you one of those?” Seb teased.

“One of what?”

“One of those teachers who reads all the time.”

“Seb, we’re teachers,” you were surprised to call him by his nickname so naturally, but you didn’t regret it. “Of course, I read all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but what I mean is, do you read for fun?” he corrected himself. “Do you read those dirty books or the inspirational ones that tell you how to be the perfect teacher?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you hit him on the arm.

“I read for fun.”

“That confirms it, you do read those dirty books where they’re constantly... you know… having sex in the dirtiest ways…”

“They’re called romance novels, Seb,” you corrected him, ignoring his comment. “The last thing I read was a romantic novel, okay? With no sex in it, by the way.”

“I knew you were a hopeless romantic…”

“I don’t know why I even told you anything…” you whispered, hiding your face in your hands.

Seb wanted to reply with something more, to joke around with you, but he knew that for today, it had been enough. What mattered was that you had felt comfortable and, most of all, opened up a little more with him that day.

Silence fell between you both again, but neither of you dared to say anything else. Not even you, who had yawned a couple of times and were dying to get home and get into bed without even having dinner, made the effort to get out of the car.

You didn’t know why you were so hesitant to leave. It was easy: thank Seb, say goodnight, get out of the car, and walk into the building without waiting to see if he drove off. Instead, you decided to stay there, by his side, your hands resting on your legs, feeling safer and, above all, happier than you had in a long time.

Seb didn’t say anything either. Instead, he focused on the streetlights, growing brighter with each passing moment, while his fingers drummed on the leather steering wheel.

Finally, you were the one who decided to take the step, to both your surprise:

“Well... I felt really comfortable today,” you admitted, with a calm voice.

Seb turned toward you suddenly, surprised.

You swallowed nervously, trying not to let the anxiety consume you and, above all, trying to stop the embarrassment from taking over.

"Well, I was thinking that... we could do this once in a while..."

Sebastian's lips curled into a smirk.

"What, reorganize a class and try not to die in the process? And not killing a hamster?"

"No, I meant...," you hesitated, then looked at him shyly. "I meant… spending time together. Outside of school."

That caught Sebastian off guard, but he couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face. He hadn’t expected you to say that, especially not after the chaotic day you'd both had.

"Wait..." he murmured, searching for the right words. "Are you telling me that... you want to spend time together, and not during class hours?"

You felt like you were going to die from embarrassment. Nervous and a little regretful, you weren’t going to back down though. You held your backpack tight, like some kind of protection, while fidgeting nervously in your seat.

"Well... I felt really comfortable today with you, and I thought maybe we could do it again. You know… grab a coffee, go for a walk..."

Sebastian didn't say anything. He just stared at you, unable to recognize the person in front of him, yet delighted that maybe, with a little bit of help from him, you had stepped out of your comfort zone, even if you didn’t seem entirely comfortable.

"Forget what I just said..." you mumbled.

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze, unable to look at him in the face. Sebastian, however, couldn’t have been happier in that moment.

"Not a chance. I like your idea. Actually, I’m more than happy with it."

His voice was calmer now, which gave you the courage to look at him. His blue eyes, which normally made you nervous and stole your words, now made you feel the same, but for an entirely different reason. You felt pressure in your chest, but this time it was nothing like the anxiety or fear of being judged and rejected.

"Hey," Sebastian spoke again, gently taking your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. "Since, from what I’ve just heard, you don't mind spending time with me..."

"Seb, please, don’t ruin this moment..."

You narrowed your eyes, instinctively leaning toward his lips, and Sebastian didn’t hesitate to close the distance, pressing his lips to yours. At first, it was soft, like you both were making sure that was really happening not just in your minds. When Sebastian felt you sigh against his lips, something in him clicked. His hand, still resting on your chin, slid to your cheek, caressing it tenderly, while his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

You let yourself go, feeling butterflies in your stomach for the first time in a long time, not because you wanted to disappear, but because you felt more alive than ever.

When you finally pulled apart, Sebastian rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

"Tell me this isn’t a mistake, Seb..." you whispered, still confused about what just happened.

"If it is, I hope you, Miss Perfection, don’t mind."

You laughed nervously, filled with emotions and confusion, but mostly happiness.

"So... what now?" you asked, breathless.

"I love the idea of kissing you in my car like a couple of teenagers, but I think it’s getting too late and we have to get up early tomorrow. So, I have an idea."

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop smiling.

"I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. How does that sound?"

"What?"

"Tomorrow's Thursday, Y/N. We have to go to class," Sebastian explained, as if you didn’t already know what he meant. "If I pick you up, you won’t have to wake up extra early to catch the bus."

Your heart skipped a beat. Yes, it was a simple offer, nothing extraordinary, but to you, it felt like more... like Sebastian wanted something more with you.

Like you mattered to Sebastian Vettel.

Seb saw the hesitation, the doubt in your eyes. He leaned in gently, and after placing a short but tender kiss on your lips, he spoke again.

"I know I don’t have to do this, but I want to," he assured you.

You swallowed hard.

Sebastian was serious. It wasn’t some bad joke like many other guys had made in the past. He really meant it.

"Okay," was all you could say.

Sebastian’s smile lit up his face.

"Great, princess. I’ll see you at seven-thirty here tomorrow. And I know it’s not necessary, but I have to remind you: please, don’t you dare being late."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you opened the car door and stepped out, a smile forming on your lips like never before.

Then, you hesitated at the door, but you were ready to, for once in your life, stop trying to be so perfect.

"Goodnight, Seb," you said softly. "And... Thank you. For everything."

"Sleep well, best teacher in the whole world."

You walked toward your building, and when you were inside, you turned around to see if Sebastian had left. To your surprise, he was still there, making sure you had entered safely.

You both waved to each other, and as you climbed the stairs to the fifth floor, you realized that, for the first time, the anxiety about tomorrow wasn’t paralyzing you.

Instead, it was tomorrow, alongside Sebastian Vettel, what were making you feel alive.

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midnightshindig · 3 months ago

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hey!! could we get some general hc’s of cecil with a prodigy daughter/kid? hopefully you’ll have fun writing fluff 😋

Cecil & Prodigy!Child!Reader

Apologies for the short response, this is my last one for the night <3

(uh not a ship, ignore the tags, that's just for reach I promise I'm not a proshipper lol)

hcs under the cut

Cecil is a single dad

and you are a handful

I mean c'mon, it's one thing to have a dumb kid or a misbehaved kid or something like that

but when your third grade teacher calls him away from work to pick you up because your "science experiment" blew up the playground

He knows he's dealing with something starkly different

You'd always been a fast one, learning to read before many kids were learning to talk.

Cecil didn't mind much, i mean it made the rough years difficult but you also weren't hurt too badly by his absences

You were a thorough latchkey kid, minding your home mostly by yourself, with Cecil only blocking out enough time to eat dinner with you, check your homework, and have a quick conversation as he put you to bed

and as you got older, and naturally skipped a grade or two or three and began to involve yourself with the local robotics team-- MIT but whose keeping track?-- and holding a steady internship with them, Cecil didn't need to tuck you in

So you grew up largely unsponsored, with Cecil being present in.... other.... ways.

For example, Cecil had a large budget and he used this to his advantage

Every year Cecil would record you a build a bear with his voice as a kid, and even into your teen years

He face timed you every day you got home from school, and made sure to keep diligent contact with your teachers

He's nothing if not attentive

His whole job is to babysit superheroes, it'd be sad if he couldn't take care of his own kid

You've probably got a really boring middle name, if you have one at all, and you've got your mothers surname

It's a little thing he couldn't bring himself to change, even though it would be easy with his power and influence.

Maybe he missed your mother, and maybe you looked a little more like her every day

he's the kind of dad who shows up for parent career day, and pretends his job is some bullshit desk job in national defense or whatever

He's pretty strict about things like boys and going out, but you're usually too busy re-wiring cyborgs or helping Rudy with his own personal projects

wait when did you befriend Rudy?

Cecil realizes he loses track of too much time

He's been so busy protecting the earth and here's his child

So little

but you're not little

you're eighteen

Wait when did that happen-

and you're an adult, you graduated college in your teens so now you help the Guardians with technical problems even Rudy can't solve

and Cecil just... missed it all

lowkey kind of eating Cecil alive ngl

When you were little, back before Cecil was even the head of the GDA, you'd go on daddy-child dates

you would ride on his shoulders and he'd explain some high level concept to you, listening with glee as you tried to explain it back to him to show how smart you were

"And that, honey, is why we have taxes"

"....taxes? are.... like a cost so we can pay bosses like you and have roads and school?"

"ehhhhh yeah, yeah that's a decent way to put it for six years old."

and now you're an adult, dissecting robotics with Rudy on the GHQ table

wearing your MIT mascot sweater, and your class ring, and the wear in your eyes he'd never noticed before

You remind him of himself, only smarter and more ambitious than he was at your age

which is saying something

God, he wishes your mother could see you

She would've loved you

And Cecil relishes getting to be your father

maybe he needs to schedule more time off so he doesnt' miss anything else.

#invincible show #invincible #invincible season 3 #invincible fanfic #invincible spoilers #cecil stedman #cecil stedman x reader #cecil x reader #cecil stedman & reader #NOT SHIPPING #family hcs #child reader #gn reader

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scottcyclopssummers · 9 months ago

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Cyclops' backstory and childhood is so tragic and dark. I hope Marvel Media, whether it is Animation or MCU Movies, don't change the backstory. For the love of god, his powers did not awaken in a spanish class at high school.

To ignore his childhood - his sort of absent airforce dad, his ocd, his neurodivergence, the plane crash, shiar kidnapping the parents, Katherine Summers being sexually assaulted and killed, his dad becoming a space pirate, him in a coma, him living in an orphanage, him and Alex being separated, Sinister gaslighting and abusing him for years in said orphanage, the bogarts dying in a plane crash because of sinister, him being bullied by Sinister in child form, him being manipulated and then physically abused by Jack Winters, the professor taking him in and turning him into a child soldier, him discovering he had a third brother and Xavier mind wiping the memory- is to ignore his character growth and is a serious disservice to his past as a very traumatized child. Kids in the system go through a lot. He was a kid who lived in the orphanage of fear.

(He didn't live with his parents after the plane crash because they "died". Comics say he was 10 years old when it happened.)

He never had it easy. He was never rich. He was never a jock. He was never the popular guy in school. Sinister experimented on him when he was a child. He was an orphan. He has suffered as much as any mutant/superhero whose pasts are usually explored in a better way in the movies.

Please respect his past.

#scott summers #cyclops #xmen #xmen comics #respect cyclops #mcu #marvel mcu #this turned out to be long #sorry if it feels aggressive

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scarletcomalies · 1 year ago

Text

soul bounds disentwined

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Part II, Part III

Word count: 5,546

Warnings: A little angsty, I guess? And ofc Reader having a crush on Billy's mom not knowing if it's reciprocated.

A/N: This is inspired in Halsey's music video "Colors", if you have watched it, you can see where this is gonna go...

A/N: For plot purposes, let’s suppose Infinity War and subsequent events never happened, and instead, after the Civil War, Wanda decided to quit her life as a superhero.

Wanda Maximoff hired you, a photographer who urgently needed a fresh start, to capture the dishes that would be featured in her second cookbook. Her son, Billy Maximoff, interfered with what you two could have developed. He had feelings for you, and well, you had feelings for his mother.

According to Forbes (2023), Wanda Maximoff secured the third position among the wealthiest chefs worldwide. She is a living proof that we are all capable of rewriting our own story, even after a lifetime shaped by external influences.

Simone Carlisle (Culinary Arts Teacher): Ah, Wanda Maximoff… (pauses) let me tell you, no one prepares you for that feeling, where you find out that you contributed your seed to the plants of successes that one of your students planted in the garden of her life.

Wanda Maximoff (Chef, restaurant chain owner, and television presenter): For as long as I can remember, my decisions were a cycle of revenge and redemption... don't get me wrong, I don't regret beating the shit out of some idiots (laughs), but, with the busy life I led, the only moment I could pause my life was while I was hiding in Scotland with my ex-boyfriend Vision. I had no one expecting anything from me, no one telling me what to do, where to go, it was like a puppy without an owner.

Vision (Avenger, Wanda Maximoff’s ex-partner): Dear, was it a journey. First, I remember that she watched YouTube videos to learn guitar. As soon as she woke up, she grabbed the instrument, and she wasn't satisfied until her fingers got numb. In a very short time, she caught the hang of it, and played for the first time in a small bar. No one knew who she was, and if they did, they probably didn't care. She was just a talented player keeping them entertained. Afterwards, band members fought over who would give her their contact first to join them. I thought that would be the beginning of a very successful music career, because from what I've read, international artists started that way.

Wanda Maximoff: I said, “Vision, I’m never doing this again”.

Vision: She kept practicing, playing in the solitude of her room, of course. It was a hobby-kind-of-passion, not the type of passion she would like to dedicate most of her life to. She went through many of those to realize that her main passion was under her nose all along.

Wanda Maximoff: The courage to join in culinary classes arose from desperation (chuckles), I used to prepare recipes at home, and I needed someone else's approval… it couldn't come from someone who didn't even eat in the first place! And so the beginning of my trayectory was paved by this amazing teacher, Simone Carlisle.

Simone Carlisle: The shy girl who during the intensive course kept her head down, sitting on the back corner, nervously playing with her rings while ignoring whispers and glances from other students, is now in a big framed picture, placed in the most visible spot so that everyone who enters my academy knows that I taught this legend. She made my small business a huge deal now (laughs).

Wanda Maximoff: I never imagined that I would have my own cookbook, television program, or chain of restaurants, let alone all three at the same time! At first, I was content with cooking in a restaurant and earning a decent living, but later, I thought about the possibility of creating a YouTube channel, which subsequently permitted me to finance the publication of my book. Building on the success of my book, the opportunity of my show emerged, which in turn allowed me to open my first restaurant, and ultimately expand it into a chain of restaurants. What I want to convey is that you must trust that the love for what you do is a powerful tool. Success is subjective, so pursue your own concept of it.

Amy Lee (Evanescence’s lead singer and songwriter): It was a hard day of work. I didn’t feel like cooking but I was looking for the homiest, most comforting food possible, and Wanda Maximoff made it a reality with her restaurant located just a few blocks near me. I told my bandmate, Emma, about this amazing food restaurant, she replied, "Oh, the owner has a YouTube channel and a show, you should watch it so that you don't overcook the spaghetti" (laughs). It has been a great help to me ever since, for those are creative but accessible recipes. Plus, it’s a nice touch that she uses her magic to manipulate ingredients and utensils, while making you laugh with her witty jokes. The best way to put it is; she makes you feel like it's a close and sweet friend who is teaching you. Her human and warm approach felt and still feels like a pat on the back.

Wanda Maximoff: My favorite singer since adolescence, Amy Lee, has said something about me that fills me with happiness every time I remember it. She helped me cope, I helped her cook. We're even now.

Vision: You see, Wanda's powers went from being a source of fear in the world to being the main reason why said fear stopped as well. An impressive understanding in her abilities, still doesn't make her an expert, as she can't prevent unexpected situations.

Wanda Maximoff: I was six months pregnant. In the blink of an eye… literally.

The latest legacy of the Maximoff family, twins Billy and Tommy, were effortlessly admitted to the New York University. The dean was left speechless, for their admission exam grades exceeded expectations.

Tony Stark (Avenger, Stark Industries): With Wanda, our initial connection was through business, the Avengers, you know? It wasn't until she asked me if I could offer her kids an internship at Stark Industries that we developed a closer bond, and man, were those kids geniuses!

Wanda Maximoff: Those kids... one day, they'll outgrow me (laughs). They were so eager to rush through life stages, and I thought, "You don't realize I would give everything to relive those joyful years," but I know better than to project my own frustrations on my sons.

Virginia "Pepper" Potts (Stark Industries): One day, I said goodbye to two fourteen-year-old boys. The next day, Happy informed me that some tall adults with raspy voices, claiming to be Billy and Tommy, wanted to come in. I immediately phoned Wanda, and she casually responded, "Oh, yeah, they can do that," as if maturing into college students overnight was a typical Tuesday occurrence for any teenager.

Thomas Maximoff, (Student at New York University, son of Wanda Maximoff): What can I say? (chuckles) school didn't present any intellectual challenges for us, and, yes, they do admit child prodigies for... PhDs even! But, we wanted to blend in, to share the same age as our classmates.

Wanda Maximoff: I always considered it a priority to spend time with my boys, so I put a lot of my work on hold, including my second cookbook project. Now that they're focusing on college and their internship, I've had too much time, and by that I mean too much time to finish that unfinished work.

Wanda Maximoff had completed her second cookbook, in response to numerous requests from her loyal fans. Another book that promised to aid all those who seeked a different, quick, and above all, delicious meal at any time of the day. There was no doubt that it would become a global bestseller, just like her previous one.

All that was left were the illustrative photographs for the book, and the studio where you worked at was in charge of this task.

You meticulously made the first dish she cooked appear as exquisite as in real life. You employed several tools like lighting, background elements, and cutlery placement, but you never altered the food in any way, it didn't even cross your mind to do so. This didn't sit well with your boss, but it certainly pleased the redhead.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) (Photographer): I remember my boss suggested that I add components to the food to make it look more appealing. I responded that that was the equivalent of encouraging unattainable stereotypes of beauty... in food (chuckles).

Wanda Maximoff: By offering unrealistic references, people would be discouraged to notice that their result was not the same as mine, not knowing that those references have hours of strategy to make it look 'aesthetic'. I prefer to show it as it is (pauses) I think that's why I liked this girl, I didn't have to say a word and she understood everything.

Your boss was the typical man who didn't let newcomers like you progress. Although you had been working in the studio for about six months, he never allowed you to touch a camera, which was contradictory because that was the job you applied for.

You did the work he didn't want to do, like transporting, positioning and removing the equipment, and setting up the scenery. That idiot just did the angles and clicked the top right button, and then took all the credit and praise. It annoyed you, yes, but unlike him, you didn't need praise from anyone to fill your ego, you just wanted to be acknowledged for your own efforts and not to be another person’s side kick.

In the meantime, it was enough satisfaction to know that none of the praise he gets would be possible without you, and he knew it…

… and Wanda knew it.

"What do you think, Miss Maximoff?" Your boss showed Wanda the array of photographs he took of the latest dish. He proudly displayed them, awaiting for a compliment from the redhead.

"Wow, (Y/N), placing the sautéed potatoes in a separate bowl instead of alongside the food within the same dish... you were right, it gives them their own protagonism and importance as a side dish," was the first thing she said, eliciting a small blush from you. "Great work!"

"Thank you, Miss Maximoff," after hearing her words, you experimented a feeling that was somewhat unfamiliar to you. It made you feel visible, truly seen and acknowledged in a workplace that often overlooked such things. And the fact that it came from her, made it all even more so profound.

"It's just Wanda," she corrected you, as if her previous actions weren't enough, she gave you the green light to address her in a more intimate manner. Along with that, your boss was already frustrated enough at not being the center of attention for two and a half hours. It was all a dream!

"(Y/N), we're done here, remove the equipment and take it to my car. I'll be waiting for you for just five minutes," your boss ordered you. Not even a ‘please’, nothing. In his gaze was evident that desperate attempt to look intimidating, which only made him look like a tantruming child. However, when his gaze turned to the older woman, he held an incredible admiration and appreciation, almost as if they were two different people in the same body. "Miss Maximoff, it was a pleasure working with you, truly an honor. We could continue next week...”

"Do you have equipment of your own, (Y/N)?" She interrupted him in mid-sentence, and you hesitated briefly.

"Uh... yes, of course, Miss... I mean, Wanda," you replied.

You worked as a freelance photographer in your spare time, capturing people or events here and there. It was something relatively stable, but it could not be your main income, so you felt the need to work on a studio.

"Perfect... I'll be contacting only you so we can work on the rest of the illustrations for the book," she stated.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N): I couldn't believe what I heard! The first thing I did was begging to whatever force there is that this wasn't a dream. It was overwhelming, the feeling of fear and ecstasy… Wanda wanted ME to work with her.

She recognized something in you within three and a half hours that others failed to see in six months. This was it. This was the big break you had been waiting for, the opportunity to show your skills and make your mark.

That being said, you never saw your boss, or stepped foot in that studio after that.

In the days that followed, you poured your heart and soul into preparing for the upcoming shoots.

You studied Wanda's previous cookbooks, familiarizing yourself with her style, her preferences. You even watched her program and her interviews, initially with the excuse of seeing those mesmerizing eyes and delighting yourself with her beauty, but you actually learned a lot of cooking techniques that you were excited to cook when it was such an annoying task for you to do.

When the day of the shoot finally arrived, you were ready. You set up your equipment with a confidence you had never felt before. You positioned the reflectors so that the natural light would bounce where you needed it, and set the scene to make the food appealing and motivating. Wanda watched you work, her eyes filled with admiration and respect.

You smiled at her as you turned on your camera, “So, what do you do with all this food after I photograph it?” You questioned curiously.

"I pack it, multiply it with my powers, and give it to the homeless," she explained. "It's something I often do, in fact, but I prefer to keep good deeds a secret, and not brag about it," she added. “I would appreciate it if you don’t say anything.”

"I figured that about you," you smiled sympathetically.

"You figured?"

“You have always used your skills to help," you elaborated, and noticed she slightly scrunched her nose, as a way of disagreeing. "Yes, even when you were working for Hydra, Tony Stark was destroying territories left and right, and you were seeking justice, doing what you felt was right," you added, noticing how her face showed an expression of realization. "And now, you focus on helping people who struggle with thinking of a simple but good meal in the midst of a hectic routine, and not so much on showing off how good you are at cooking exotic dishes. So yes, I assumed you would also help those who can't even afford a meal, too.”

Wanda's gaze was lost in the white marble of her kitchen floor, and you knew you gave her a new perspective on the wrongs she had done in her past. She meant well all along, and ultimately, that's what mattered. She was a great person in the present, and that's what mattered.

"So, you're the photographer in question," a tall, curly-haired guy stepped into the kitchen doorway, interrupting the train of thought of the woman in front of you.

You laughed at the expression on her face as reality hit her again.

"Oh, yes. Sweetheart, this is (Y/N)," she introduced you to who you already knew was her son. "And (Y/N), this is my son Billy."

"Nice to meet you, Billy," you replied, approaching him to offer your hand to shake.

"The pleasure is all mine," he emphasized the last words, as he accepted your hand. "My mom didn't mention that you were so beautiful."

Wanda cleared her throat, and proceeded to look at him with surprise in her eyes. In a I-can’t-believe-you-said-that way.

You couldn't help but laugh again at how expressive she was without noticing it.

But in their perspective, from how you looked the other direction and chuckled softly, you seemed to snicker at Billy's flattery, which couldn't be further from the truth. He was corny and predictable, but most importantly, he was not Wanda Maximoff.

"Oh, forgive him, he still doesn't know how to control those sky-high hormones," Wanda said, grabbing Billy's shoulders from behind to guide him out of the kitchen.

You noticed that she was already shorter than her son by a few centimetres. This was nostalgic for any mother, but how must Wanda have felt watching it happen overnight? You were curious.

"No problem," you replied, and headed for the counter to begin photographing.

Billy entered the kitchen again, standing next to you, but not close enough to invade your space, which you thanked internally.

"Do you mind if I watch you work, (Y/N)?" Billy requested, and you smiled politely.

"Billy! Don't you have an internship to go to?" Wanda interfered before you could answer.

"Pepper and Tony organized a party at the tower," he replied victoriously.

"College homework?"

"Piece of cake. I finished it an hour ago."

“How about you enjoy your free time and go bowling with your brother?”

“He’s busy playing Fortnite online,” he shrugged.

Wanda rolled her eyes, "Behave yourself. That's the only condition."

"It's okay, Wanda," you reassured her. Each stage in a child's life is gradual, and parents usually have many years to learn about what each stage entails. It was understandable that Wanda didn't know what to do now that her children were suddenly old enough to drink and get into adult trouble.

"So, (Y/N), how long ago did you start this whole photography gig?" The taller guy spoke up, once you took your first picture.

"I've been doing it since I was thirteen," you replied, still capturing the image in before you at different angles. "Dedicating myself to this? As soon as I turned eighteen. I had a decent portfolio."

"I don't doubt it," he agreed.

You gave him a slight thankful smile, and walked over to Wanda, who was setting up the second dish to be photographed.

"What do you think?"You asked her, and it wasn't until she turned to look at the camera that you noticed that this is the closest you've ever been to her. You could smell her fragrance and hear her breathing. Your mind was screaming at you to move away, for you had no right to display such trust yet, on the contrary, your body needed to be as close as possible... to feel her.

You had never touched her, not even when she greeted you this afternoon. She simply opened her door and let you enter.

"Excellent. The blueberries next to the gluten-free blueberry pancakes are wet,” she commented. “Did you do it to provide a sense of freshness?" She inquired, looking into your eyes this time, and... the charm of her green eyes was incomparable.

Throughout life, you've seen different shades of green, but hers were unique. They seemed to have a whole story to tell, as if she gave them that power. Her eyes glowed with an emerald hue that mesmerized anyone who met her gaze, and you were no exception.

“Exactly, that’s what I did,” you confirmed, and you felt your cheeks burning, which you immediately hid by looking down and walking back to the counter.

The only interactions you had with Wanda were to get her to approve your photographs, since her son didn’t allow you both a second to talk. He didn’t cease to ask you all sorts of questions, and to keep the conversation going, you responded with brief 'and you?'s so that he still felt heard and had the space to reveal details about himself.

It was all natural for you. Your work was also based on creating a liveliness in the environment where you performed, plus you got more genuine reactions from people if you made them laugh and feel comfortable. However, you always ended up talking with whoever was willing to, even if you were not there to capture them.

In fact, you were enjoying the conversation with such a charismatic guy. At first, it felt overwhelming, but just by letting the topics flow, you ended up laughing and feeling more at ease with him. In any case, you would be meeting him more than once in the eight weeks that remained before the project was completed.

Once you had finished photographing the ten dishes for the week, you turned off your camera and put it back in its case.

You were too happy with the results. This was all done by you alone, and you would be recognized for it. Never again would your boss's name appear under the pictures that were all your doing. The moment Wanda sends your photographs to the publisher, your name would appear in the book credits, and so a new story would begin.

And Wanda... oh, Wanda made it so clear that she loved your work, and paid so much attention to detail. Not only did she praise you, but she made it a point to let you know that she had indeed noticed the details that to the average eye would go unnoticed. You didn't know if you were really developing a crush, or if it was just the fact that she was an older woman that satisfied that need for attention that you rarely got... or it could be both.

When you were working on your own, you didn't feel exhausted and drained despite the long working hours, unlike when you were in the studio. You were very grateful that Wanda had given you another opportunity like that, and you were confident that it could become a regular thing.

"Wow, seeing all these dishes without having eaten lunch has really made me hungry," you laughed, proceeding to remove the reflectors from the kitchen’s window. The sky was still clear. You started at a perfect timing to take advantage of natural light.

"You haven't eaten? Look at the time! I thought you had eaten before you came!" She exclaimed. The redhead actually looked concerned. "Do you have any idea of the damage you're doing to your body? You need energy for this kind of work."

"Hey, I wanted to make a joke and you ruined it with your lecture," you protested.

Wanda sighed, and shook her head disapprovingly, which made your heart crumble a little.

“I… I’ll get some food on the way home,” you corrected yourself.

"How about you stay for dinner? I was going to make it, Tommy won't be long before he comes back to the real world and notices he's hungry," she offered kindly.

"Oh! Or I can take you out for dinner somewhere nice!" Billy proposed, smiling at you with anticipation.

To be brutally honest, you wanted to throw yourself at him and choke him so no other words would come out of his mouth. You knew Billy was just a guy with a silly crush, excited to show you how interested he was in you. He wasn't trying to do any harm. But, hell, wasn't it enough for him to be the center of your attention all afternoon?

"I'm really looking forward to trying something made by your mom," you declined in the politest way possible. "Many people would kill for that honor!"

Wanda let out a laugh, and her expression also seemed to change as she heard your decision to stay.

But, oh, Billy, Billy, Billy... as persevering as his mother.

"Awww! Next week she'll cook you something, right mom?" he insisted, and even though the redhead tried hard to keep her smile, her eyes changed.

"Sure, I'll cook whatever you want," Wanda sighed. "Go with Billy, and continue your conversation... alone," the way she said that last word was as if she had felt like the third wheel all afternoon, as if she was a hindrance to whatever was starting between you and Billy.

"You owe me," you said to Wanda, letting her know implicitly that you were looking forward to your meeting next week, not this dinner with Billy.

Billy led you to the garage of his house, and opened the passenger door of a black car. You thanked him politely and got in, allowing him to close the door for you. The car was completely spotless, and had a new car smell, but not because it was new, maybe because that was the fragrance he asked for at the car wash. For yours, you always opted for lavender… which made you wonder, what fragance did Wanda like for her car?

"Any preferences?" Billy asked once he hoped in the driver’s seat, pointing towards the car radio. It was noticeable he was doing his best to make this comfortable for you.

"A little bit of everything, how about rock like... Evanescence?" you proposed.

"Ah, my mom loves them," he commented, and your eyes lit up at that statement.

"You're kidding..."

"Yeah, since her teenage years," he confirmed. "Evanescence, In This Moment, Epica, Lacuna Coil..." he listed, trying to remember them all.

You made a mental note to put on that music on your next meeting with Wanda. It wouldn't be hard, as you loved all the bands he mentioned, which was wonderful.

You couldn't wait to show her the latest bands, ask her her favorite songs, and have a topic of conversation that would allow you to bound...

"So, ready?" he spoke, noticing that you were lost in thought.

"Yeah, sure," you nodded, putting on your seatbelt.

The dinner was... better than you expected. In fact, it was amazing.

You didn't really have anything in common with Billy, but the way you both listened to each other, and always found a middle ground despite going your separate ways, made the experience with him extremely pleasant.

The only difference was that, as you each went home, he thought about seeing you again, and you thought about seeing his mother again.

And so, after a week, you found yourself in front of the door of Wanda's house, with your camera hanging from your neck, your equipment already waiting on the pavement next to your parked car, and as a bonus, a speaker you brought along to play music while you worked.

Alone, at last...

When the door opened, you found the redhead wearing a casual outfit consisting of dark blue jeans and a black half-tucked in blouse. Oh, and her face, how you missed that face.

"Hey..." You greeted her, with palpable enthusiasm.

"Hi," she replied, and noticed the speaker in your hand, arching her eyebrow. "I found out last week that you and I have a lot of bands in common."

Wanda let out a gasp of surprise, "Oh, please do come in!"

You laughed briefly, and as you were about to enter your equipment to take it towards the kitchen, Wanda snapped her fingers, and it disappeared.

"Wanda, what the hell?" You exclaimed, looking at her with your widened eyes, had she just disappeared all your belongings?

"Relax, they're in the kitchen."

"That skill of yours would’ve come in handy last week too," you commented, walking into her house.

"It was fun watching you run in and out," she shrugged. "But today you earned it, because of the music."

"I see, I have to earn it?!" You exclaimed, feigning indignation. Really, she could have pulverized your expensive equipment in front of you, and you'd still thank her.

Once both of you entered the kitchen, your reflectors were already in the same position as always. And on the other side, the ten dishes were already hot and ready to be photographed.

"And what would I possibly have to do next week to earn that help from you?" you asked, resuming the topic you had discussed earlier.

"Mmmm..." she muttered, in a way that almost made you weak in the knees. She watched you from head to toe making you feel exposed to her as if she had ripped your clothes to shreds and left you standing there, naked and at her mercy. But you were still completely covered. "... I think you've earned it,” your reaction alone was enough reward to her.

“Thanks, I guess,” you cleared your throat.

You picked up the speaker, and turned it on, placing it in a place in the kitchen where it would not interfere. Your hands were shaking, and you could have sworn that Wanda was watching you with amusement, while you avoided her gaze at all costs.

You grabbed your phone, and played the playlist you had prepared for this moment. "A Star-Crossed Wasteland" by In This Moment was the first to come on.

"Oh, I love that song like you have no idea," Wanda exclaimed, closing her eyes and frowning as she passionately listened to that intro. "That album, in general..."

"It's in my top three," you commented.

"Hell yeah! Now we're talking!" She exclaimed, raising her hand offering you a high-five.

"I'm not that old school," you shook your head, chuckling.

Wanda rolled her eyes, and took your wrist, giving herself a high five with your hand.

"Good girl," she praised you, and you swallowed dryly. At the words, and at the fact that this was the first time you'd ever touched her. "What's your top three?" she asked, acting so nonchalantly after flustering the hell out of you.

“Tell me yours first,” you proposed. You couldn’t even think of your favorite three albums of one of your favorite bands.

"Black Widow, GODMODE, and A Star-Crossed Wasteland, she answered, almost without thinking. It amused you to imagine she'd spent her whole life for someone to ask her that question. "And yours?"

"Black Widow is my favorite, too," you agreed. "Blood, and A Star-Crossed Wasteland."

"Oh, two in common and in the same position," she pointed out, smiling. "If the new album hadn't been so good, it would agree with Blood, too…”

For the rest of the evening, the focus was on your favorite bands, as they played in the background.

You finished faster than last week, as Wanda was willing to use her powers for you to just arrange the background and take the pictures, instead of searching in every corner of the kitchen - you only had to ask, and it appeared.

“Alright, we're done...” she concluded, excited. “Now, let me pack this food and put it in the fridge,” and with a snap of her fingers, it was already packed and subsequently perfectly placed inside the fridge.

“Impressive,” you exclaimed, not ceasing to show your admiration, just like every time she used her powers. If you didn't look so cute, Wanda would have grown irritated at you a long time ago.

“Now, I owe you a dinner,” she said. She never told you, but she was so eager to finish quickly because that way, when her sons returned from the internship, you and her would have spent a significant time together.

The food Wanda made for you was... you didn’t even believe that the accurate word to describe it even existed.

The sensations you experimented had you mindlessly closing your eyes, trying to memorize this magnificent meal, absorbing it all in. You had tried a lot of different restaurants and foods, but none like this, oh they wished they were even close to what you tasted.

This was more than just eating. It was a demonstration of peak exquisite cuisine. This was about more than just sating hunger. It was about the delight of tasting food prepared with passion.

And... just as Wanda was leading you out of the door, you noticed that it opened, and you met who you knew was Tommy.

"Oh, finally I have the pleasure to meet the famous (Y/N)," was the first thing he said. So Wanda... "Billy hasn't shut up about you."

You forced a smile, "That's... nice," you hesitated. "I have a feeling he's going to be a great friend, and I hope you are too."

Tommy noted the intent of your response but decided to reply, "Of course," with a small chuckle. "In fact, you should come play tennis with us next Saturday."

"Oh, I don't know how to..."

"I'll teach you," Wanda quickly interjected, and that hope in her eyes made your decision easier in an instant.

"Well... will you send me the address?" I asked.

"Rest assured."

When you said goodbye to Wanda and Tommy, Billy was climbing the steps to the doorway, and he smiled broadly at you.

"Hi, (Y/N)!" He exclaimed happily. "Have you eaten yet? If not, we can go eat something and catch up."

Oh, how kind he was...

"Thank you, your mom and I already had dinner."

It was Saturday, and you were walking around the room in your apartment. Your best friend, Kate, was already starting to get dizzy.

"Kate! It's a country club!" You exclaimed, for probably the twentieth time. "People there probably eat pizza with silverware, and know the use of all ten thousand kinds of forks. I won't fit in..."

"It's just a tennis game! I'd understand if it was golf, but tennis?! You'll be fine!" She groaned.

"I look ridiculous..." you shook your head, looking at yourself in the mirror. "I mean, what is this cap? And why all white? Am I getting baptized or something?"

"Hey! Do you want to fit in? This is the outfit," she countered. "You look hot, surely Wanda will drool over you when she sees those legs," she cheered you up

"Surely it will be Billy," you sighed, disappointed.

"Wanda too, from what you've told me..."

"No, this is one of the situations where I'm misinterpreting a hint of validation from an older, beautiful woman," you quickly denied. "And as always, my best friend is encouraging my delusions."

"Really? Name one situation."

"That Italian woman who I photographed with her family for several Christmas sessions?"

"Ha! She looked at you funny."

"Yeah, that's why she turned down my invitation to dinner when I finally found the courage, saying I knew she had a husband and kids."

"Uhm... she refused just because she had a husband and kids, not because she didn't like you!" She quickly justified, and you couldn't help but laugh, forgetting for a moment the nerves that were eating at you.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wandavision #marvel

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creatingblackcharacters · 7 days ago

Note

I saw that people are doing book recs and I'm an upper elementary/middle school teacher so I have a few recent middle grade scifi/fantasy series with Black protagonists that my students absolutely loveeeee.

The Supernatural Investigations series by B.B. Alston is relatively well known but I would be remiss to not mention it. I cried reading the first book, Amari and the Night Brothers, aloud to my class. The vibes are very Percy Jackson meets Men In Black in that it centers around Amari going to a magical summer camp and taking an internship with what I can best describe as the Supernatural FBI in an attempt to find her missing older brother.

Second series is Last Gate of the Emperor by Kwame Mbalia and Prince Joel Makonnen. The novels take place in a far distant Afrofuturist Ethiopia and the main plot of the first novel involves kids playing a highly competitive and dangerous ARG for a lifechanging prize.

Last series is the Onyeka series by Tola Okogwu. The first book opens with Onyeka, who is British Nigerian, discovering that her hair has magic powers that she uses to save a friend from drowning, after which she heads off to a Nigerian superhero school. Her story has lots of third culture kid elements that my Nigerian-American students really appreciated.

All three of these series have a waitlist in my classroom library nearly every year. My students are obsessed. Highly recommend to any kids ages 9+, particularly if they like magic or superheroes.

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 I love it when teachers get on here and show that they give a shit about our kids. God knows we could use teachers that are actually considerate of Black students.

#creatingblackcharacters #black authors #book recs

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flightfoot · 6 months ago

Text

How Alya's mistreated by the saltdom and the writers

I've written this for the @yall-hate-kids-tourney, but figured that I'd publish it on my own tumblr as well for an easy reference point for others who want to illustrate how badly Alya's been treated - mostly by the fandom, but she's been somewhat screwed over by the writing as well. I've written it so that even people who have never heard of Miraculous before can understand my problems with the way Alya's often depicted, and I will probably use this essay for that purpose repeatedly in the future. It's over 4500 words, so buckle up!

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The amount of hatred Alya gets in the fandom is absolutely insane. There are over 800 fics tagged with "Alya Cesaire Bashing", and that's just the ones that actually TAG it - many of them either use a a non-canonical tag or just take their demonization of her as canon. It's not just that a lot of fics bash her either, but that the fics that bash her are disproportionately popular. If you go through the "Miraculous Ladybug" tag on AO3 and sort by kudos, I'd say around a third of the top 500 most popular fics use this gross caricature of her in order to justify inflicting some sort of insane punishment on her, or at least replacing her with "better" friends and leaving her to wail in despair.

Basically, Alya is the best friend of the main character, Marinette. She's really into superheroes and aims to be a reporter someday, to the point that the first time a supervillain cropped up in the series, she immediately got out her bike and cycled after him so that she could be there when a superhero showed up to fight him (Lois Lane would be proud). She runs a blog called the "Ladyblog" which reports on what the superheroes are doing, and sometimes makes some fun videos, like about the most impressive feats of one of the superheroes.

More relevantly though, she acts as Marinette's support a lot of the time, often being the one to push her to confess her feelings to Adrien, to help her with plans she comes up with, to talk things out with if she's having trouble processing something, and trying to act as the voice of reason if Marinette's gotten to into her own head. It can sometimes head into Black Best Friend territory of having her mostly stick around to support her bestie, but she DOES get a decent amount of screentime and focus at least.

Then the first episode of season 3 aired, and the fandom went BALLISTIC.

This character, Lila, debuted back at the end of season 1 as being this attention-seeking liar who pretended that she knew a lot more famous people than she actually did, including being best friends with Ladybug. Alya, being a naive 14-year-old, believed her and put Lila's interview on her blog. Since Marinette IS Ladybug, she knew this was not true, though she was initially more freaked out about the possibility that Adrien (the boy she has a crush on) would find her supposedly amazing life to be entrancing and that Lila would steal Adrien away from her, to the point that she actively wanted to stop Lila and Adrien from spending time together to prevent Adrien from falling for her.

Fast-forward to Chameleon, the first episode of season 3, and Lila's back and lying some more, this time about having Tinnitus (which would mean that she needs to sit at the front of class, next to Adrien). The class has a whole seating rearrangement in order to accommodate the move, and because some of them just wanted to change seats. Since Marinette was late that day, she didn't get to give input, so she wound up sitting alone at the back of the class, instead of next to Alya like she usually did. She's upset by this, but can't prove that Lila doesn't actually have the disability (she doesn't even have evidence that Lila doesn't have hearing problems, it's just that her story of how she supposedly got the disability is suspect), so she puts up with it for the class period.

Then lunch time rolls around and Marinette tells Alya and Alya's boyfriend, Nino, that Lila's a lying liar who lies. Alya asks why Marinette hates her so much, since she barely knows Lila (this isn't the first time that Marinette's nitpicked at Lila's stories, but she's never actually managed to prove that Lila's lying, Lila's good at coming up with explanations for any hole Marinette exposes in her tales). Marinette tells her how, after Lila first arrived at school, she followed her and Adrien, eavesdropped on them, and then saw Ladybug show up and tear into Lila for not knowing her. (Presumably that's what she says, the episode skipped past her actual recounting of what she saw). Alya and Nino are more concerned with the fact that she stalked Lila and Adrien, with Alya also being skeptical that what she heard might have been out-of-context, given how common out-of-context eavesdropping is in fiction for causing issues, with Alya saying, "A good reporter always verifies her sources. Can you prove she doesn't actually know Ladybug?"

Since Marinette can't actually prove anything without revealing that she's Ladybug, she decides that the sane and reasonable thing to do is to throw a wadded up napkin at Lila while she's eating lunch, and when she catches it (Lila's pretending to have a sprained wrist), to loudly declare that she obviously doesn't have a sprained wrist. Lila quickly pretends that catching it did actually hurt, the classmates Lila was sitting with scold Marinette for hurting her, and then Marinette goes off to seethe in a bathroom, where Lila finds her and threatens to turn her friends against her if she continues trying to expose her lies.

Then at the end of the episode, Adrien goes to sit with Marinette at the back of the class to keep her company, the teacher thinks that Marinette ALSO has hearing issues so she's brought back to the front (and away from Adrien again), Lila pretends that her hearing has been fixed so she can sit at the back with Adrien, and Alya spots that Marinette looks miserable about sitting alone at the front, so she chooses to sit next to Marinette to keep her company and everyone ends up going back to their old places, except that Lila's sitting at the back of the class now.

And that's it. That is, for the most part, what kicked off the entire Alya hatred and demonization onslaught. While there ARE more things that happening in following episodes, they have a pretty small effect on the demonization Alya's put through, almost all of it is derived from Chameleon and hasn't changed much since then.

So for starters, in fanfics Alya is often made to ditch Marinette constantly to hang out with Lila instead. This never happens. She's often exasperated when Marinette starts talking about how Lila is awful and points out that she doesn't have proof of that, but she doesn't avoid Marinette, and the closest she ever comes to hanging out with Lila outside of class events is when she called Lila over to babysit hers and Nino's younger siblings when Marinette canceled at the last minute.

But most Alya-bashing fics don't just leave it there. Oh no. If you look through a bunch of the most popular Miraculous fics, you'll see Alya made out to be some sort of ringleader for the class in bullying Marinette, hitting her, pinching her, poisoning her, destroying her things, saying nasty, heinous things to her, the works, and inciting the rest of the class to do the same, sometimes to the point that even LILA is shocked at her cruelty. Usually in these cases, Chloe, who is canonically the class bully (and Marinette's bully in particular) is inexplicably Marinette's primary protector against the eeeeeevil Alya, becoming Marinette's best friend and support and basically taking on Alya's canon role and some of her personality traits, despite the fact that canonically, Chloe's as susceptible to Lila's lies as anyone else, and that in season 5 Chloe actually became Lila's partner in crime in trying to hurt Marinette in particular. (I don't like how Chloe's treated in canon, but that's a different story).

I've never even seen any justification given for why Alya's so frequently made to be outright violent or cruel towards Marinette, it's just widely accepted in fiction now, even with nothing pointing to her ever being malicious like that. There ARE other things Alya canonically does that I see her taken to task over though, but that fall apart when you examine them.

One of the biggest offenders is criticism towards Alya over how she handles babysitting. In Christmaster, Alya and Nino pick up Nino's little brother after Marinette babysits him for them while they're on a date, in Timetagger, Marinette's slated to babysit for them while they're on a date but cancels at the last minute, so they call Lila over instead, and then in Simple Man, Marinette books herself to babysit Alya's and Nino's younger siblings and the daughter of one's of her mom's friends, a little girl named Manon, all at the same time.

Alya receives heavy criticism for not paying Marinette for her babysitting, for having Marinette babysit for her secretly behind her parents' back without their knowledge, and for pressuring Marinette to babysit for her even though Marinette's so busy.

A few problems with this.

1. We see babysitting happen several times, sometimes with Alya helping Marinette with babysitting Manon and sometimes with Marinette just babysitting Manon without anyone else's involvement. At no point is payment brought up, and yet the absence of such a discussion is only ever used to demonize Alya.

2. There is no evidence that the babysitting Marinette does for Alya's sake is done behind her parents' back, the only thing pointing to that is a lack of Alya ever flat-out saying that she has her parents' permission to have Marinette babysit for her, but there's no evidence of sneaking around. MARINETTE, however, DOES canonically ditch her babysitting duties by having Alya babysit for her without the parent's knowledge. In Prime Queen, Marinette accidentally double books herself to do an interview as Ladybug at the same time that she's supposed to be babysitting Manon, so she calls Alya over to watch the interview with her, lies to her that she's just gonna go downstairs for a few minutes to talk with her parents and for Alya to please watch over Manon while she does that, and then leaves to do the interview while Alya watches over Manon the whole time. Nadja definitely didn't know that this happened, because she was surprised and worried when Alya and Manon called in during the interview with Marinette nowhere to be seen. In addition to this, in Simpleman, Marinette foists off all the children she's babysitting onto her grandpa against his will so that she can run off and help with Adrien's photoshoot after he calls her. The people demonizing Alya for supposedly having Marinette babysit for her secretly are not upset about the examples of Marinette canonically doing these things.

3. Of the three times that Marinette has, to date, been scheduled to babysit for Alya's sake (Christmaster, Timetagger, and Simpleman), for Christmaster she spent the next several hours after finishing with babysitting making Adrien's 50th birthday present (he's currently 14 years old), so I wouldn't say she was pressed for time, for Timetagger, she literally called Alya at the last minute to say she was too busy to babysit and Alya said it was no biggie and made other arrangements, and for Simpleman, Alya offered to cancel her date and take care of her younger siblings herself the instant she saw that Marinette was already babysitting Manon, and Marinette told her to go ahead and go on her date and that she'd look after her siblings.

So clearly, the people clutching their pearls about how horribly irresponsibly Alya is handling babysitting and how she's wronging Marinette in the process don't actually care about babysitting ethics here, because otherwise, Marinette would be getting the brunt of the hatred, not Alya. Despite this, I've seen a fair number of posts in the past tearing into Alya's babysitting for the reasons I already gave, and a bunch of fics that make it so that Alya pressures and guilt-trips Marinette into babysitting for her when she's struggling to keep up with all her work, only to have her parents find out and be horrified by how Alya's lied to them about who's been doing the babysitting and that Alya's been getting an increased allowance because of that, so they pay Marinette out of Alya's allowance and ground her, take away privileges, just have this be used as an excuse to punish Alya for supposedly wronging Marinette.

And then there's the subcategory of Alya demonization towards her for putting up Lila's interview on her blog without verifying that Lila was telling the truth. Admittedly, this was foolish, but she's 14. Retractions exist for a reason. And yet, fics frequently have her reputation be completely destroyed because she put up one interview that had a false statement by the interviewee in it, and sometimes even to be completely blacklisted from ever being a journalist in the future, things that are completely insane and would have even the most storied and well-respected of reporters be unable to ever get a job.

She also frequently gets demonized and bashed for "believing Lila over Marinette". My major issue with this: what she's specifically believing Lila over Marinette for is on the topic of "is Lila an awful person". I don't think it's unreasonable to have a higher standard of proof for believing that someone is an awful person than for believing that your friend might just have some biased interpretations. Alya thinks that Marinette doesn't like Lila mostly because Lila has hit on Adrien, Marinette's crush, before. This isn't unreasonable considering that Marinette's first reaction to Lila is to freak out about her stealing Adrien away, and that when this other girl, Kagami, started hanging out with Adrien, she freaked out about that too. Specifically, she called a meeting of all her female friends to try and stop Kagami and Adrien from going away together to London for the weekend in Backwarder, helped Chloe in trying to get Kagami covered in food at a fancy red carpet movie opening in order to drive her away and steal her seat next to Adrien for the movie, and when she and Kagami were paired up for a "friend-making game" where the goal was to locate where Adrien was in Paris and the prize was to spend time with him, she pretended to genuinely want to be Kagami's friend so she could sabotage both of them and prevent Kagami from spending time with Adrien. So it's not like the belief that Marinette might be unfairly biased against Lila because she's made moves on Adrien is an unfair assumption.

In addition to that, on the occasions when Lila HAS tried to frame Marinette for something, Alya hasn't believed it, or hasn't been shown to believe it at least. In Ladybug, Lila tries to frame Marinette for cheating on a test, for stealing a necklace from her, and for knocking her down the stairs. Despite the evidence Lila planted, Alya doesn't believe it and investigates to try and find out what really happened. She doesn't uncover any solid proof, but she still believes in Marinette. She doesn't believe that Marinette's assumption that Lila's behind this is necessarily correct, since Marinette's leaping to that without presenting proof, but she doesn't believe that Marinette's the culprit either. And in the two following cases when Marinette's framed, Alya never actually gets a chance to say what she believes after the accusation is made against Marinette.

Just... the amount of demonization towards Alya TO THIS DAY, often for things she NEVER EVEN FREAKING DID, is absolutely insane. Even over 5 years since Chameleon aired, fics with Alya being made into this malicious, awful bully so that Marinette can get some new friends to publicly denounce her, get her arrested, or otherwise be punished are frequently on the front page of the most recently updated fics on AO3, and are often some of the most popular ones. If you go to "Fandom-Specific plot" on Tvtropes, saltfics like these have multiple files going through all the common salt tropes. When looking through fics, I frequently search for Alya's name because she's often the first person to be unfairly demonized, so if she's safe, then everyone likely is.

I suspect that racism plays a major factor in this. It doesn't make sense that Alya's often painted as being a violent, malicious bully and leader in getting the rest of the class to physically hurt and terrorize Marinette, I haven't even seen analysis arguing that she'd do that... but it tracks with the "Black Brute" archetype. This becomes even more obvious with Chloe, who's white and canonically DOES do some of this stuff, taking on Alya's canon role and some of her personality traits in these sorts of stories.

Then there's the standard Alya's held to for how she handles her blog. It's way higher than anyone would hold real-world reporters to, much less 14-year-olds. But it makes sense if you factor racial bias into account, and how Alya, being Black, is going to be held to a higher standard than anyone else, and be punished more for failing to meet that standard.

For things like the babysitting double standard, it makes no sense if you're actually looking at the stated criticism, given that the same criticism isn't leveled at Marinette... but it makes perfect sense if you're going off the assumption that Alya, as Marinette's Black Best Friend, is supposed to solely function as her support and that she's simply fulfilling her duties by always being there for her when needed, including for babysitting, but that if Marinette ever attempts to repay in kind, then Alya's being unfair towards her because Alya's obligated to always support Marinette, but that relationship is supposed to be a one-way street. Alya is supposed to function as Marinette's support, never the other way around.

And as for the way Alya's demonized for asking for evidence before believing that Lila's lying, well... again, Alya's expected to act as Marinette's support, and her "failing" that in any way, even if it makes sense from her point of view, is viewed as a betrayal. She's supposed to be loyal to Marinette, and only to Marinette, not to think for herself or to have multiple other friends or values that she needs to weigh. And anything that she does to go against that "justifies" Marinette intentionally trying to hurt and punish her for failing to live up to her role.

In conclusion, the way Alya's treated by the salt side of the fandom is grossly unfair, often has little connection with anything she canonically did, and has some gross racist implications, and is likely at least partially spurred on by racism, especially with how common and popular it still is to this day.

Addendum: How Alya is screwed over by the writers.

While Alya is primarily screwed over by the fanbase, there are some aspects of the writing that exacerbate her ill treatment. In season 4, Marinette confesses her secret identity to Alya, letting her know that she is Ladybug. Despite now knowing why Marinette was so convinced that Lila wasn't friends with Ladybug, and that Lila's interview stating that she's best friends with Ladybug is a lie, the subject just... never comes up, even when Lila starts being important again. It's not that Alya's ignoring what Lila lying on those subjects means, it's more like the writers just completely forgot that Lila told those particular lies, since Marinette doesn't bring them up either. This creates an inconsistency with the fanbase, who really, really, REALLY haven't forgotten those lies.

There ARE ways to explain this - Lila lying about being friends with Ladybug in order to try to boost her reputation, especially when she's the new girl, isn't really all that heinous. Marinette lies a lot as well, even if you don't count lies told to protect her secret identity or other "necessary" lies, sometimes out of embarrassment, sometimes to to try and prevent someone's feelings from getting hurt, and sometimes because she thinks it's the fastest, easiest, or most certain way to get the outcome she wants. And yet, even though Marinette lies a lot, she's not ostracized for that since it's usually not for malicious reasons - foolish reasons at times, but rarely malicious. It would make sense that Lila too, wouldn't be thought too badly of for merely lying in an attempt to make friends.

None of that actually comes up though. Alya later, in Confrontation, states that, "Marinette, you know we'll always believe you. But every time you've accused Lila, there's been no evidence. And at worst, it was just a misunderstanding." Marinette doesn't say anything about the previous times Lila has been proven to lie, so it seems like either it was decided offscreen that the more understandable lies she's told don't matter, or that the writers just plain forgot about them.

There were other opportunities created by Alya knowing Marinette's identity that were ignored. Alya concludes that Adrien backing up Marinette's statement that Lila's bad news was just due to him wanting to defend his girlfriend. This is also a bit of a writing flaw, while wanting to back up his girlfriend's stance IS a decent reason for Adrien to be biased against Lila, this is Adrien we're talking about here. He's nice and understanding to a fault, and is known for giving people the benefit of the doubt and second chances. It makes far less sense to believe that he'd believe the worst of Lila, even if Marinette does, than it does for Marinette to be biased against Lila. That being said, Adrien wouldn't have been present for Lila's more indisputable threats and statements directed against Marinette, so he can't actually verify for sure whether or not there could've been some misunderstanding.

There WAS, however, someone who was always with Marinette, and who could actually back up Marinette's statements more definitively.

Tikki. She was present for every threat Lila made, for everything she ever claimed. While it's possible that both Tikki and Marinette may have misunderstood Lila in the same way, it's far less likely, especially since Tikki would have had different biases from Marinette. Tikki could be an important witness. Yet that never comes up, is never proposed, because that would end the plotline too quickly.

Alya was also screwed over in the immediate aftermath of Lila being exposed, though not by the writers per se? There was a short scene planned after Lila's exposed where Alya apologizes for not believing Marinette about Lila being a liar and generally an awful person, we've even got leaked footage of it, but it appears that it was cut somewhere between being written and voice acted, and the episode being aired.

All of this only really affects detailed arguments about how well (or poorly) Alya's story arc with Lila was handled, its affect on the actual fanfiction produced about Chameleon salt was minimal, I saw no change in its frequency, severity, or general handling of the characters with any season after season 3. I highly doubt that even the changes I suggested here would have done much to persuade the saltdom against Ron the Death Eatering Alya, especially since a lot of the hatred against her has so little to do with the show.

There IS some hatred thrown at Alya for non-Lila related reasons - well, reasons that aren't DIRECTLY Lila related, most of that hatred still stems from people hating her for Chameleon stuff and then retroactively justifying it by looking back at other things she did that irked them. The most common one (that actually has some sort of argument to it, not the "Alya's a horrible babysitter and is abusing her friendship with Marinette" nonsense I listed in the main essay) is that Alya's pushy about getting Marinette together with Adrien.

This is more a product of Alya's usual role in the story than anything. I mentioned in the main essay how Alya sometimes falls into "Black Best Friend" territory, and this is one of the biggest examples. One of her most common roles throughout the series is as the person who pushes Marinette to actually confess to Adrien, to hang out with him, to pursue her romantic desires even with her anxiety holding her back, and to be honest with herself during the times when she's trying to deny her feelings for him. She's Marinette's sounding board whenever she's having an anxiety spiral about... actually, just about anything, and acts as the voice of reason when Marinette gets in her own head too much.

Thus, Alya sets Marinette and Adrien to end up somewhere alone together, or tries to push her to talk to him, or to be honest during the times when she tries to "move on" from Adrien by denying that she still has feelings for him (which is blatantly untrue). She IS okay with Marinette dating someone else though, if she honestly seems to want to do that. She had no problem with her dating Luka, for instance. She DID protest Marinette's seemingly sudden interest in Chat Noir, but that was mostly because Marinette seemed to be grabbing at her new attraction as an attempt to run away from her feelings for Adrien, something that Tikki ALSO noted.

That's another thing - Alya's the character who's most frequently thrown into this role, but she's not the only one, nor even the most extreme one. A new character that was introduced for the Miraculous New York Special, Jess, observed how Adrien and Marinette acted around each other, and decided to try to get them to confess their love by faking a supervillain attack on them, with the supervillain kidnapping anyone that no one loves in order to compel Marinette to FINALLY confess to Adrien. (Alya thought it was stupid, but agreed to help since it might actually work). When Marinette, Adrien, Luka, and Kagami went out to the wax museum together, Luka intentionally locked Adrien and Marinette in a room together so that Marinette would stop running away and would be forced to talk to Adrien. Marinette is written in such a way that other characters are compelled to meddle in her lovelife, because otherwise she'll continue making her own extreme plans and pining away, but never actually confess her feelings.

So while Alya could be said to be "pushy" to an extent, it's mostly for Marinette's benefit. I would like if this was a less frequent role for Alya - I think it does her a disservice, since it locks her firmly into Marinette's orbit rather than emphasizing who Alya is as her own character. Most of the hatred towards Alya for this is tied up in "Die For Our Ship" being directed at Adrien though, with Adrien bashers hating that Alya's trying to set Marinette up with what they see as an inferior option. Ironically enough, while Alya's role in this situation is one of the primary examples in the show of her being treated by the writers as a "Black Best Friend" who exists to serve Marinette's character, it's actually one of the cases where I think racism is a pretty minor part of the hatred by the fanbase over it, since I think that's mostly motivated by hatred towards the Lovesquare.

In conclusion (again), there is an issue with the writers bending Alya's character in order to tell a particular story, particularly a Marinette-centered story, while ignoring how little sense that makes with what happened earlier on in the plotline, or how it centralizes Alya's role and character around Marinette in ways that exacerbate already existing writing patterns in media.

#alya cesaire #ml analysis #ml fandom salt #miraculous ladybug

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latenightreadingpdf · 6 months ago

Text

Hidden in Plain Sight (2) - Dave Lizewski

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖⋆ Part 1 ⋆˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖⋆ Part 3 ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: When Y/S/N saves Kick-Ass from a dangerous situation, he becomes obsessed with trying to uncover her true identity. Little does he know, Y/S/N is a girl from his school who secretly has a crush on him as well. As they patrol together, their worlds collide in ways neither expected, leading to a surprising revelation about who's really behind the mask.

Y/S/N - Your superhero name

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Monday couldn’t have come fast enough. Dave was jittery with excitement and nerves as he met up with Todd and Marty outside school. Clutching his hastily scribbled list of suspects, he gave the rundown.

"Alright, guys, these are the girls who could be her. We’ll watch them, check out their voices, see if anything clicks. If one looks even a little familiar from the other night, I’ll try to talk to her after class."

Todd smirked, looking over the list. "You’re gonna stare down all these girls and hope one of them gives you a hint?”

"Exactly," Dave nodded, grinning. "This’ll work. It has to.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

In first period, Dave’s mission began. The first girl on the list, Emily Sanders, sat two rows ahead of him. He stared at her intently, trying to imagine her face under Y/S/N’s mask. She had dark hair, like Y/S/N, but she looked over her shoulder at him with a disgusted expression and promptly switched seats.

Strike one.

In the next class, he focused on Lisa Connelly, suspect number two. Every time she moved or talked, Dave leaned a little closer, hoping to catch some flash of familiarity. Eventually, Lisa’s friend whispered something to her, and she gave Dave a strange look before moving to a different part of the room.

Strike two.

The third girl, Brianna Torres, noticed his staring almost immediately. After class, he mustered up the courage to talk to her, but she barely let him get a word in before brushing past him, muttering, “Creep.”

At the end of the day, Dave regrouped with Todd and Marty as they walked home, pulling out his list with a sigh. “I crossed three off today,” he said, folding the list back up.

Todd nodded. “Marty and I managed to cross one off too. I guess she’s not Susie. That leaves… what, three?”

Dave nodded, relieved. "Right. We’ll hit those three tomorrow. We’re close, I can feel it.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

That night, he suited up in his Kick-Ass costume, the mask and jumpsuit a comfort now as he headed out on patrol. The list was still gnawing at the back of his mind, though, as he roamed the city streets, keeping an eye out for any sign of trouble—or maybe even a glimpse of Y/S/N.

And just like clockwork, her voice called out from behind him.

“Hey, Kick-Ass.”

He whirled around, trying not to look as startled as he felt, hands suddenly sweaty under his gloves. “H—hey,” he managed, aiming for casual but landing somewhere between awkward and shaky.

She walked up beside him, giving him a friendly nod as they began to patrol together in easy silence.

After a bit of small talk about superhero stuff, he started throwing out questions, subtle but probing, hoping they’d reveal something about her identity. But she sidestepped each one with a smooth answer, too clever to let anything slip.

Eventually, a small lull fell over the conversation. Dave’s mind raced, wanting to ask something—anything—that would get him closer to figuring out who she was. Then, before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “So, uh… how’s it going with that Dave guy from your school?”

She let out a soft laugh behind her mask. “Oh, that? You don’t want to hear about my dumb crush.”

“No!” he said, maybe a bit too loudly, his voice cracking as he stumbled to recover. “I mean, I want to help. You know… give some advice, or whatever.”

She glanced at him, the amusement clear in her eyes even with her mask on. “Alright. I mean, I’d love some advice, but… I don’t think he likes me back anyway.”

“What? No way! You’re—you’re amazing! Like, I don’t think anyone wouldn’t like you,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could think.

“Thanks,” she replied softly. Then her voice took on a more teasing tone, as if she knew something he didn’t. “But it doesn’t help that he’s been staring at a bunch of other girls in class. It’s like he doesn’t even notice me.”

Dave swallowed, the heat rising to his cheeks. “Oh… uh… really?”

“Mhm,” she said, and there was a smile in her tone. “I sit near him in calculus. Not that I pay much attention—I’m usually too busy looking at him to focus on anything else.”

His mind spun as he absorbed her words. Calculus… that narrowed it down a lot. And then it hit him. Y/N. She sat right near him in calculus. His heart nearly skipped a beat.

Holy crap, it’s Y/N! How did I not figure this out sooner?

As the realization sank in, his nerves took over. He didn’t know what came over him, but he started stumbling over his words, trying to come up with a quick excuse. “Uh—um, yeah, s-sorry I’ve got to go… um… feed my cat! Yeah, feed my cat. She’s probably hungry. But uh… you should talk to Dave! To see if he likes you back.”

Before she could respond, he took off running, practically tripping over his feet in his rush to get away. “I’ll, uh, see you around!”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When he got home, Dave immediately grabbed his phone, texting Todd and Marty.

Dave: Guys… I figured out who Y/S/N is.

Todd: Seriously? Who?

Dave: Y/N. You know, the Y/N from our calc class.

Marty: No way. Isn’t she, like, super hot?

Todd: Dude, how the hell did you manage to get someone like her into you? That’s insane.

Dave rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the goofy grin on his face. After shutting off his phone, he lay in bed, his mind spinning. He’d done it. He’d actually figured out who Y/S/N was. And more than that… she liked him, even when he was just awkward, nerdy Dave.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm down, but sleep wouldn’t come. All he could think about was Y/N—her laugh, her teasing, and, most of all, the fact that she was hiding right under his nose all along.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The next morning, Dave woke up with a renewed sense of purpose—and anxiety. Today, he was going to talk to Y/N. For once, he put a bit more effort into his appearance, doing his hair carefully and choosing an outfit that looked cooler than his usual. He even checked himself in the mirror before leaving, feeling oddly confident.

As soon as he got to school, he found Todd and Marty, who were waiting to discuss the plan.

“So, how are you gonna talk to her?” Todd asked, nudging him.

“Yeah, like, you actually need to have a game plan,” Marty added.

Before he could answer, Todd’s eyes widened, and he slapped Dave’s shoulder. “Dude, there she is! At her locker. Right now.”

Dave’s stomach did a nervous flip as he looked over to see Y/N grabbing her books from her locker. She looked effortlessly perfect, and he suddenly felt like he had no idea what he was doing.

“Holy shit, what do I even say?” he muttered, feeling himself start to freak out.

“Just go talk to her!” Todd whisper-shouted, nudging him forward.

But as they all panicked in silence, Y/N shut her locker and walked away toward her class. The three of them deflated, watching her go.

“Damn it!” Dave sighed, running a hand over his face.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

By the time calculus class rolled around, Dave was still on edge. When he walked in, he saw Y/N already seated and scrolling through her phone. He’d been planning all morning to talk to her before class, but now that she was right there, the nerves came rushing back. He chickened out and went straight to his seat, cursing himself internally.

But damn, she looked good.

Throughout the class, he found himself glancing her way, completely forgetting where he was. It was like she was the only person in the room, and every time she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear or shifted in her seat, he’d find himself staring all over again.

When the bell rang, Dave started gathering his stuff, still kicking himself for not making a move. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone approaching him. He looked up, and his heart nearly stopped.

It was her.

“Hey, Dave,” Y/N said with a sweet smile, her voice soft.

“H-hey, Y/N. What’s up?” he replied, hoping he sounded calm.

She looked a little shy, almost as if she were working up the courage to ask him something. “Um, I’m not doing too well in this class, and the teacher mentioned you’re, like, the best in here. I was hoping you could maybe… tutor me?”

His mind raced. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. He managed to nod, practically shouting, “Uh, y-yeah, of course!”

Y/N giggled, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small piece of paper. “Perfect! Here’s my number. Just text me when you’re free to help.”

She flashed him another smile, thanking him one more time before turning to walk away, a subtle smirk playing at her lips. Dave stared after her, feeling like he’d just ascended to another dimension. He could still smell a hint of her perfume lingering in the air around him, and he was left completely dazed.

Oh god, he thought, staring down at the paper in his hand. I’m so screwed.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

At lunch, Dave clutched the small piece of paper with Y/N’s number in his hand like it was a lifeline. He spotted Todd and Marty at their usual table and dropped into his seat, quieter than usual.

Todd noticed immediately, squinting at him. “Dude, what’s with you? You look… weird.”

Dave took a deep breath and held up the paper. “I got Y/N’s number.”

Both Todd and Marty’s eyes went wide, and they immediately broke out into grins.

“Are you serious?!” Todd said, practically jumping up from his seat.

“It’s not like that!” Dave blurted, trying to stay calm. “She just wants me to tutor her in calc. She thinks I’m good at it or something.”

“Still, that’s her number, man!” Marty elbowed him. “So, what’s your plan? Are you going to flirt with her? Sit super close? Or maybe pull the classic ‘oh no, I forgot my textbook’ move?”

Dave groaned. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I’ll probably just wing it.”

Marty rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause that always works out so well for you.”

“Come on, man!” Dave gave him a slap on the arm. “I’m not that bad at talking to her.”

The boys kept laughing, teasing him over possible things he could say, until eventually they switched to discussing a new comic that had just come out. But while Todd and Marty debated storylines, Dave couldn’t concentrate. His mind was on Y/N—and what he was actually supposed to text her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As soon as Dave got home from school, he went straight to his room, staring down at his phone, crafting the perfect text. His thumbs hovered over the screen before he finally typed:

"Hello, it’s Dave Lizewski from calculus class. Can’t wait to start tutoring you! Are you available after school tomorrow?"

He cringed, instantly deleting it. No, way too eager.

He tried again.

"Hey Y/N, it’s Dave from calc. Did you want to meet up tomorrow after school for tutoring?"

This time, it seemed more casual. He read it over about twenty times, taking a deep breath before finally hitting send. To his surprise, Y/N’s reply came back almost immediately.

Y/N: Hey Dave :) After school works for me. I’ll meet you in the library?

Dave grinned, typing back, “Yeah, sounds good.”

He set his phone down, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. He couldn’t believe it was happening; he was actually going to meet up with Y/N outside of class. But just as he started to relax, he remembered something else—Kick-Ass was due out on the streets tonight, too. And he’d almost definitely run into Y/S/N. Or, well, Y/N.

He let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing his suit and getting ready. How am I supposed to keep this whole thing a secret while tutoring her and fighting crime with her alter ego?

Little did he know, Y/N had already figured it out.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N ~ I got a little carried away while writing so now there’s going to be a part 3

#fanfic #fluff #dave lizewski x y/n #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski fanfic #dave lizewski imagine #dave #dave lizewski #kickass x reader #kick ass x y/n #kick ass x you #kick ass x reader #kick ass fanfic #kickass #kick ass #kick-ass #fanfics #fanfiction

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ssoulstar · 1 year ago

Text

Mask Off.

paringl: spiderman!Wonbin x best friend!fem reader

genre!: action, fluff, a tiney winey bit of angst,

tropes!: one sided pining, best friends to lovers, superhero reveal, the hero and the damsel

synopsis!: Before Wonbin had gotten bitten by the radioactive spider, he was on the path of becoming your, his longtime best friend, boyfriend but when he thinks too hard about the people around him and how devastating it would be if they were caught in the crossfire of his battles he swears to never expose his secret to his friends or you, that is until you run in front of a mechanical 20 foot Rhino to save him—or rather—to save spiderman.

warnings! profanity, mentions of blood, descriptive fight scene, mentions of broken body parts

songs! sunflower- post malone, swae lee, friday im in love- the cure, i wanna be yours- artic monkeys I. pink toes- childish gambino,

Park Wonbin swore that he was professional; he’d bet his life on it. But according to Sohee, he was the dumbest person the universe could’ve given superpowers to.

“This seems a little unethical…” Sohee sighed exasperatedly, evidently more than a little fed up with Wonbin and his escapades. Currently, the two best friends were sitting on top of one of the highest buildings of their university, watching out for somebody as they ate the sandwiches Wonbin's aunt had packed them.

“Are you Spiderman?” Wonbin narrowed his eyes at Sohee who rolled his own in return, taking another large bite out of the PB&J.

“Dude, you’re one of the most wanted vigilantes in Korea! You should be off helping an old lady cross the street, not looking for academic cheaters,” the blonde joked, chuckling to himself in self-satisfied amusement. Wonbin wanted to rebuke him, but he knew he couldn’t.

Wonbin had always joked around with Sohee like that, but today it rubbed him the wrong way. Jokes and jabs that usually bounced off him now stung like barbs, especially those directed at his job. Even though it wasn’t a job, it was his chosen path.

Yes, he should be out swinging through the streets of his city, but he couldn’t help but think about you; How you were doing, what you were doing, if you were safe. You were the third person who completed Wonbin’s small friend circle. The only person he was as close to as he was with Sohee.

He would admit, he probably should be helping an old lady cross the street, given he wasn’t looking for cheaters: he was waiting for you to finish class. He didn't have any more classes until tomorrow, so he had the entire rest of his day to spend and he wanted to spend it with you. Originally, he’d planned to wait by himself, but Sohee had caught him rushing out of his last class toward the School of Chemical Science building.

And that was exactly where they had ended up, on top of the Chemical Science building, waiting for your biochemistry class to be done. “You should eat something; you haven’t touched the sandwich at all,” Sohee spoke again, finishing his lunch with one last bite and eyeing the sandwich and chips Wonbin had next to him. Wonbin rolled his eyes, not daring to face Sohee’s determined gaze a second more.

“Go ahead. I got a 20, I can get something later,” he sniffed, and Sohee practically snatched the food from beside him, earning a small chuckle from Wonbin.

Once the doors opened and the students began to pile out, Wonbin almost broke his neck turning to spot you from the crowd. When his eyes finally landed on you, struggling to fit your textbooks back into your bag, his heart stopped, his cheeks flushed, and his chest tightened.

A smile crept across the corner of his lips as he stood up. “Okay, I’ll see you later!” Wonbin bowed jokingly and waved, his right heels leading off the edge of the building before he fully plummeted towards the ground.

“Wait!—“ Sohee gasped, hand reaching out towards his already falling friend. He groaned, how was he supposed to get off the roof if the door was locked and Wonbin had carried him up?

Wonbin excitedly, if not clumsily, threw his bag over his shoulders as he stumbled in front of you, a dorky big smile expressed on his face. “Aren’t you supposed to be home?” you sarcastically chuckled as you continued to walk, his footsteps matching yours as he followed.

“I’m actually here to walk you home,” you proceed to laugh more, finally fitting the book into your bag. “What a gentleman,” jokingly you tilt your head toward him. Wonbin had always felt like a big person in your life, his presence was always there in all of your memories, even if it was a small one. He was always the clumsy, dorky, funny, and unintentionally annoying Wonbin, but lately, for the past few months, he had been acting out of the ordinary, out of your ordinary.

Instead of showing up to class early or on time, he would now show up at least 20 minutes late and you’d have to write another pair of notes for him in a separate journal. He also would show up unannounced like he knew where you were at all times. To say the least, it started to get suspicious to you. “Made a new playlist,” his voice had broken you out of the thoughts that clouded your brain.

Your eyes focus on him next to you. “Shouldn’t you have been doing homework?” You smile, and his laugh floats through your body.

“Take it or leave it,” your hand grazes past his to take the earphone from him, and Wonbin swears he could feel his heart tighten from the little interaction of where your fingertips grazed over his.

As Wonbin continues to fool around, the familiar banter-filled walk envelops the both of you. Playful jokes and shared laughs punctuate the journey, making it feel like it’s been hours since you had left campus. As they stumble along, Wonbin spots a small convenience store and nudges the fir beside him with a grin. "Hey, wanna grab something, I’ll pay?" Without saying a word, you chuckle and nod, the light glinting off your eyes at the sound of something to eat, stomach grumbling.

"Sure, but only if you promise not to take forever picking out the perfect snack this time." Wonbin feigns shock, placing a hand over his heart. "I have standards okay, Y/n," his eyebrow goes into an arch as you both share a laugh and head into the store, playfully bickering about which chips and drinks to choose. The chatter flows effortlessly as you walk into the store, like an old record playing a familiar tune. Wonbin teases, holding up one of his favorite chip bags. “You know, I'm pretty sure these chips are made from top executive potato farms." You raise an eyebrow, matching his playful tone. "Oh, so you're a chip connoisseur now?"

His head nods in agreement. "There’s no way these chips can be this good, there’s just no way," his shoulders shrug back into him in disbelief sharing a laugh, you shaking your head, the atmosphere light and carefree. The convenience store's fluorescent lights cast a warm glow on your faces as you continue the lighthearted debate.

With one of the other hands carrying each side of the bag of snacks, you both continue on the pathway, drifting back into the comfortable city silence.

When you approach your house, Wonbin expects nothing less than to be welcomed in and hang out with you until nightfall.

You unlock the front door to your empty house and turn to Wonbin, ready to do what he had just thought, but he stops himself from smiling into your gaze. Quickly the goofy smile on Wonbin’s face fades down into a serious line, a sudden tension seizes him and the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up to alert him.

His hand goes back to pet them down, trying to ignore the pressing feeling, but the unsettling feeling is making him nauseous, his hands starting to sweat as he physically looks uncomfortable. “Bin?, You okay?” Worriedly you ask, sensing that something was wrong.

“Wonbin!” You shout into his ears, blocking your concern. “I’m so sorry, y/n, I forgot that my aunt needed help around the apartment tonight,” a held sigh escapes, and you nod in disappointment.

“Okay, you owe me one though, a hangout, I mean.” Suddenly, your smile gives him some sort of relief, even if it was a small dose. He nods. “Of course, I know the drill.” He’s already making his way down the front steps of your porch when his body tenses even more with the now overbearing feeling of discomfort. His eyes closed, trying to calm his annoyed nerves as his fists curl inward to form a tight ball, knuckles turning white.

The reaction his brain had become overwhelming, the thought of hundreds of people in danger replaying over in his head, as he walked down the street, away from your house and hoping to god that you were safe from the destruction he was about to overcome. His phone rings rapidly with a call from Sohee.

His nerves calm down from the recognition of his best friend's number, and he picks up the phone, beginning with a simple “What’s up dude?” before he is cut off by a panicked Sohee. “bin, where are you right now?” His tone sounded frantic, but overwhelmingly calm, like he was trying to deescalate the situation, make it seem under control. “Just left y/n's, why?” Wonbin concluded, his serious tone beckoning Wonbin to speed up the slow walk he had sported.

"You need to come to the campus, right now." The serious tone in Sohees voice was drastically different from the usual playful one he would have in his earpiece during missions. Wonbins thumb hits the red end button on his phone before aiming his wrist to the nearest street pole and swinging himself up into the air.

When Wonbin made it to the school's campus, he was met with a sight that would make a regular person's heart stop. Luckily, Wonbin is nowhere near a normal human. Through the dotted specs of his suit goggles stood a machine that could’ve reached the clouds if built a little taller.

Standing at the end of the quad area and in Wonbin’s way was one of the enemies he had made along his way to success, Rhino. A bulky almost 20-foot Machinery in the shape and build of a Rhinoceros, complete with the guy behind the machine in the dead center controlling it. Wonbin stretches, rolling his eyes at how relentless this guy was. Just because he had stopped the guy's bank robbery did not mean that he had to build a 20-foot-tall steel animal as revenge.

“Y’know..” He shouts, voice cutting through the warm hues of the afternoon, a mix of confidence and sarcasm “When I said “Get stronger before you face me” I didn’t mean add missiles to the outer of your suit,” he chuckled, the red and blue hues of his costume standing out against the shadows.

Rhino, his yellow-tinted teeth seething menacingly, growled in response. "I hate that snotty mouth of yours, Spider."

Wonbin grinned beneath his mask, allowing his agile feet to guide him closer to Rhino. "Yeah, I’ve heard that before, don’t worry," he sighed, the rhythmic thuds of his web-shooters accompanying each step.

“Okay…Let’s get this over with, yeah? I’d hate to speed things up, but I got somewhere to be, Rhino,” Wonbin mumbled a bit, his words trailing on and on as he shot one of his webs to grab the closest object near him and slung it into Rhino, making the heavy machinery falter backward. Wonbin’s eyes widened. “Maybe that wasn't the right move…” Before he could react with another snarky remark, his opponent was already charging toward him, the tip of the steel Rhino horn rapidly approaching Wonbin. His web from his left arm shot and swung him out just in time before Rhino shook into the wall Wonbin was in front of.

Wonbin prayed that Sohee was safe as he swung effortlessly through the cityscape, the rhythmic thud of Rhino's heavy steps echoing in the narrow alley. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if Sohee was off bleeding out somewhere and Wonbin wasn’t there to help him. The night air crackled with tension as the two adversaries faced each other, the glow of the city's lights casting dramatic shadows.

Rhino's massive form loomed before Wonbin, who quirked an eyebrow beneath his mask. "Missiles, Rhino? Stepping up your game," he quipped, a playful smirk on his face.

The villain grunted with anger, his horned helmet gleaming in the dim light. "Can't wait untill I put a hole through that body, maybe that'll get you to stop talking"

Wonbin chuckled, a characteristic humor lingering in the face of danger. "Good luck with that, big guy," and with one last snarky remark, the clash began, a symphony of punches, kicks, and maneuvers as Wonbin skillfully dodged Rhino's powerful attacks. He flipped and swung around, using the urban landscape to his advantage. His webs wrapped around various parts of the close-witted apartments to land blows.

"You move like a wrecking ball, Rhino! No wonder they call you that," Wonbin taunted, ducking under a powerful swing.

Rhino snarled, charging forward with renewed fury. "I'll smash you into the pavement!"

Wonbin’s spider-sense tingled as the battle intensified, warning him of Rhino's next move. He leaped up into the air, narrowly avoiding Rhino's onslaught. The sounds of impact echoed through the open city streets, followed by the misdirected shrieks of pedestrians as they paid witness to the fight.

But one scream had caught Wonbin’s attention. If he didn’t have his senses, he wouldn’t have noticed your terror-filled screams. His attention redirected itself to where you were, his panic-ridden eyes desperately scanning the crowd of sprinting people to spot you.

As his eyes dart to find you, Rhino had spotted an opening, landing one big spring full blow to Wonbins side, and from the hit, the fabric on his leg and right side of his arm is almost completely disregarded, blood sparkling down the open cut. His legs shakily tried to push himself up, but the blow was powerful enough to weaken the superhero's stamina.

“Spiderman!” The voice rendered him still, his masked eyes following the sound of your voice as you rapidly ran towards him. He had almost gasped if it wasn’t for his enemy watching for his close reaction to the stranger helping him up. The last thing he would want was for Rhino to know your connection with him

“Are you alright?!” You didn’t know why you had decided to run in the middle of the crossfire to help up the vigilante that had been swinging over your city's cold nights, but something had compelled you to recollect yourself out of your terror and help him as the hit from the mechanical rhinoceros came in contact with the hero's side.

“Oh yeah, Totally fine,” he coughs in between words as you help him up to his feet. Wonbin tried to let out a big huff of breath, but the puncture on his body didn’t let him, every time he tried to breathe the gain of pain became worse.

With a squeeze of his shoulder, he realizes who helped him up, and his panic-filled thoughts circle back to you. His head turned. “Oh my god, you shouldn’t be here. Like at all,” he squeaked.

“Shit, shit, shit—” His mumbles become incoherent as his hand holds out, web wrapping around the light post and pulling both of you into the sky. You scream, understandably, not everyone is normal about swinging for the first time; hell, Wonbin couldn’t even grasp the concept of it for the first few months of his new persona. His breath hitches at the pain surrounding his body as he utilizes his power more deeply, desperately trying to get you to safety while also desperately trying to lose Rhino.

“Oh my god, Oh my god, I’m in the air—I’m swinging through the air. Holy shit—”

“Technically I’m swinging through the air; you are flying, I guess,” he corrects amidst the tension of the situation. The air circling through your nose had made it unable to grasp the feeling of being so high. “Make a left!” you shout at him. “Not to be that kind of superhero, but I do not think I should be taking orders from a girl who risked her life to help a regenerating spider-human hybrid,” Wonbin snaps back, making another swing forward. “And I don’t think you should be flying—”

“Swinging,” Wonbin grunts. “Okay! Fine, swinging. I don't think you should be swinging through the air while you could potentially be internally bleeding.” You had made a good point, swinging through the air would only make his injury worse.

“Make a left, my friend's apartment is down on 17th Street.” He mentally nods before making a sharp left, trying to make it to 17th Street before he had weakened even more. He makes another hard left but this time pushes himself up more.

His feet land on top of the building you had ordered him to go to. “Thank god we lost him on that last turn—”

“What the hell were you thinking, Y/n?! You could’ve seriously been hurt, let alone died,” Wonbin’s voice laces itself with frustration. His first instinct was to check you for any bruises, shaking your body side to side forcibly. “Wha-What..?”

“God, I know you could be a little dense, but I didn’t think you’d be this stupid—”

“How do you know my name?” You question, ignoring his cries of worry.

“What? Don’t tell me you have whiplash from being launched in the air,” his voice fades out as he realizes what he has just done. There was a moment of silence, the cold air of the now nightfall surrounding the tense situation. “Well, I know every civilian's name,” he huffs out.

A bluff, you thought “You do?” Y/n deadpans. “Of-Of course!”

“Take your mask off,” Wonbin gulped at the command. His hand twitched in contemplation. He couldn't say no to you, even if it meant putting you in danger by telling you his secret. But if it meant keeping you safe, he wouldn’t mind telling you no.

He promised himself that nobody close to him would get hurt as long as he had these powers. When Sohee had found out, a part of him had felt disappointed in himself for letting that happen. But if you had found out, Wonbin would have to harm himself before letting you fall into the hands of endangerment.

He just couldn’t do it. “I-I can’t, at least not right now, Y/n,” his voice becomes raspy as his air shortens, the injury becoming worse with every second he sits here and rattles his brain about you.

“I’m not going to judge, nor am I going to act surprised. Just please, I need to know who you are,” you beg, the scraps and little cuts on your hands going up to feel the warmth of his mask. “I cannot put you in danger as I did—like I did my other friend,” your fingertips slide slightly under his mask to pull it up, but his covered hand stops you from doing so.

“You aren’t going to put me in harm's way; I can handle myself…”

“I can’t—”

“Wonbin, please.” It was like Wonbin’s heart had dropped, his feet felt unstable, and dizziness wandering up from the back of his head, part of him wondered if it was because of how much blood he was losing but a part of him knew it was from the name drop the way he froze up.

His larger hand softly unwraps yours as he finally lets you lift his mask and pull it off of his face, revealing the busted lip and potential black eye he had gotten from the fight. “How did you—”

“I only have two friends that care about me that much. And I know Sohee would not be the type to ruin his face battling a mechanical Rhino the size of a tennis court,” a soft smile reaches your lips as the taller stands in front of you in shock, his messy hair rubbing against his long eyelashes. “I’ve been racking my brain on why you’d been acting so strange lately. Why’d you never show up to class, or be late to the few you have attended, Why you wouldn’t go to karaoke with me and Sohee—”

“Okay, okay. I get it, a lot of questions little amount of breath,” Wonbin weakly chuckles, holding his side tightly. “But we can save those for a later date. I’m just glad that you are safe.” If he wasn’t beaten to a pulp right now, you would’ve said that this was the most handsome he had looked in the time you had known him. His hair messy, the air drying up his lips by the minute, the weak warm smile he sported while looking at you in desperation.

You step closer to him, almost too hastily, because when you softly smash your lips into his he stumbles back a bit before stabilizing himself on the rooftop's rubble. It had felt like the world had rejoiced at the sight of you two, like the air had been stripped from the gasses and the cold air from the night had become warm as both of your lips had synced together. You giggle in between pecks, an endearing sight to Wonbin’s eyes.

You never wanted that moment to end, the pure bliss of the moment filling your gut with butterflies but then your eyes spot down to his torso, where he holds it roughly with the little strength he has left.

You push him off slightly. “Oh! Let’s get you to a hospital. You could die—”

“NO! No hospital, I’m fine,” he grunts. “You are not fine—”

“I’ll be okay since I inherited spider senses, that means my body heals itself faster than the average human. I just need to rest; the longer I put pressure on it, the longer it’ll take to heal.” You nod at his explanation. You are not going to say no to his methods, considering how he’s the one with the superpowers.

His arms wrap around your waist, hugging you into him tightly. “Good thing I was your first choice when you thought about a hiding spot.” He chuckled, his apartment being 3 levels down from where you both stood.

A warm towel lays upon Wonbin’s head as he lays in his bed watching television, the remote flipping through various movies. It had been the next day, you had spent the night taking care of his wounds because

1.) You couldn’t let your newly pronounced boyfriend suffer alone with little to no treatment,

and 2.) he begged you to stay with him.

“By the way...” you trailed on from his desk chair, fidgeting with his Rubik's cube.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve been your guy in the chair,” you exclaim, huffing into a pout, and he chuckles at your personal dilemma. “I mean, I could still be your guy in the chair—”

“You will not be my guy in the chair; Sohee is that already.”

Your eyebrow cocked upward. “Oh, so Sohee knew about this before me?”

“ON ACCIDENT,” he protests. “Yeah, okay, I doubt that.”

footnotes!

notes!- hi, it's been a while lol. This was supposed to be a zb1 fic but I changed it last minute bc I miss my pookies. please let me know how you like it feedback is always appreciated!!! maybe I'll even do a part 2 with the events (Gwen death scene) of amazing Spiderman 2 who knooowss also if it says gyuvin or tricky anywhere let me know...please.

#riize #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize wonbin #wonbin #riize oneshots #angst #wonbin x reader #riize fluff #wonbin fic #riize scenarios #kpop fanfics #kpop #kpop imagines #riize wonbin x reader

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night-daily · 2 years ago

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Jealousy jealousy | Peter Parker x fem! reader

Summary: 3 times where Peter hears you fangirling over Spiderman and one time he finally explodes.

warnings: none.

a/n: enjoy and let me know if there's any mistakes please!:)

The first time, he overheard you talking to your friends, was an accident, he didn't on purpose it just happens every time he sees you, he has no control over his senses. And he doesn't realize he's eavesdropping until you say something that brings him back to reality.

“... I think he's hot.” whoa, were you talking about him? Nice. “I mean, have you seen how athletic he is?” fuck, it wasn't him. Yeah, he participates in P.E class but he has to pretend he isn't good at it so you or anyone else wouldn't get suspicious. So it couldn't be him.

Peter turned his face away from you, feeling insecure. You were dumping him? Who was this guy?

“Hey, what are we talking about?” One of your friends came to the table you and your friends were eating.

And of course, Peter needed to hear the name of the guy.

''I'm masochistic?''

“Spider man!” You exclaimed with a smirk on your face making your friends groan. His heart stopped for a second. “Again?” Your friend rolled playfully her eyes to you. And you nodded with your head cheerily.

Peter felt his body relax at your words. So you like Spider man uh? Only if you knew Spider man likes you too.

The second time, the two of you are in his room, he sitting at his desk doing homework while you are doing yours in his bed. Well, you got bored doing the homework so now you were just rambling stuff about your classes, your friends, and...

“Hey, have you heard about Spider man?” Peter's body froze. “You know, the Superhero.” He hums in agreement, incapable to make a comment. “I heard some people show up at the crime scenes just to watch him in action.” And Peter dislike that people, they could get hurt and they didn't even care, and for what? just to watch him? “Yeah, that's crazy.” He expected you to agree with him, but you were quiet. “That's crazy, right?” He turns his chair to look at you, but you were avoiding his eyes. “... I don't know, to be honest, I would like to watch him in person too, even a glimpse of him.” Now he was seeing red. Why would you do that? Why would you put your life in danger for someone who you don't even know? Why would you do that for Spider man?

He couldn't help but feel a hole in his chest, it was a heavy and ugly feeling, he had never felt something like that. Jealousy. “What’s so good about him, anyway?” Peter muttered, turning himself, and ignoring the smile that crept across your face.

The third time, you were getting ready to hang out with your friends at the new coffee shop, doing your makeup you saw Peter through the mirror leaning against the doorframe of your room.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” your teasing smile sent butterflies to his stomach. “Why would I want a picture? If I have you all for myself.” He came closer to you from behind your back, placing kisses on your naked shoulder. “Oh, you're lucky that I haven't met Spider man then.” He stopped kissing your shoulder “Please, go with him if you like him so much” You turned your face to him. “I'm kidding Pete, I already have you and I love you so much.” You squeezed his hand. “Also, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't notice me, I bet he dates models”

He didn't know why he was more upset, you doubting how beautiful you are or assuming that Spider man wouldn't notice you. But you were wrong in both assumptions.

“You are the fucking prettiest girl I've ever met and anyone would be so lucky to share the same oxygen you breathe because I know I am.” And he smashed your lips, it was a passive-aggressive kiss. “I'm lucky too.”

And the one time he finally explodes, Peter was resting in his bed after a long night patrol when you crossed the door excitedly.

“PETER YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT” Oh, sure he did. “What happened, love?” He played fool. “So, remember when you dropped me at the corner of the street? Well, guess what!?” You made it a short pause not giving him the chance to respond “SPIDER MAN WAS THERE TOO” He gasped. “No way!” You grabbed your phone and unlocked it “AND HE GAVE ME FLOWERS. NOT JUST THAT, TULIPS, MY FAVORITES” You showed him the photos of you and your tulips, you looked so happy and that makes him happy too. “He shouldn’t go after other people’s girlfriends” He half-joked. You laughed “Maybe after all you have a rival” He wasn't smiling anymore “I mean, who gifts tulips to a complete stranger? Maybe he likes me? OH MY GOD, SPIDER MAN LIKES ME! WOULD YOU IMAGINE US TOGE-” “Babe, I'm Spider man!” Peter cuts you off. He couldn't stand anymore hear you falling for Spider man. But how would you react? Would you hate him for keeping it secret?

“I knew it!” He was shocked “Wait, what?” you shrugged “Honey, you aren't that subtle.” Now, if you knew it, why you had never told anything to him? “I never told you anything because I kind of enjoy you being like this and I want to know how much you could take it before admitting you were jealous and you were Spider man.” Peter blushed “I never would have thought I’d ever be jealous about me.” You winked at him “Oh, jealousy looks good on you.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker tasm #peter tasm!

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dapperkobold · 6 months ago

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Every PF2 Class Really Really Fast

Alchemist: You make free comsumables. Make some in the morning. Make the rest as you go throughout the day. Throw unfinished goop if you don't have the time to make stuff.

Barbarian: Get super angry for bonus damage and durability.

Bard: Cast occult spells. Spend that third action singing or attacking.

Champion: Enemies... can attack your allies?! UNACCEPTABLE.

Cleric: Cast divine spells. And an obnoxious amount of healing. Or harming, whatever, I'm not your dad. If your deity has cool domains, use that. If your diety has a cool weapon, use that.

Druid: Cast Primal spells, it's like the best parts of the Arcane and Divine lists combined. Yes, you can turn into animals if you want. There's also non-animal options if you'd prefer.

Fighter: Choose your favorite weapon type, you get +2 to hit with it. Don't get used to it or it'll poison you for every other martial in the game.

Gunslinger: You're fighter but you've been assigned guns instead of getting to choose. Crit fish harder. That +2 is still addictive if you're not careful.

Inventor: Make a custom machine for murdering your enemies. Murder your enemies with it. Spontaneous combustion is always an option.

Kineticist: You are an elemental blaster superhero.

Magus: Sword+Spell=a LOT of damage. Hey, you read up on the action economy first, right?

Monk: Punch people 500 times. You're more durable butt naked than the fighter is in full plate.

Oracle: Cast divine spells. Build up your curse to make things get *~Wacky~*.

Psychic: Spell slots are for people who can't cast enough cantrips.

Ranger: Choose one man. Kill he

Rogue: Flank people. Splat people.

Sorcerer: Choose your spell list. Get perks for casting granddad's favorite spells.

Summoner: You share your health with your pet hypermurder machine. Hey, you read up on the action economy first, right?

Swashbuckler: You can kill anyone so long as you look sufficiently cool doing it.

Thaumaturge: You've figured out what the enemy is weak to! It's you.

Witch: Choose your spell list. Free cat.

Wizard: Cast arcane spells. Play legos with spell slots.

NEW! Exemplar: What superpower do you want for this round?

NEW! Animist: The ghosts say that if you cast divine spells they'll cast primal spells for you.

#Pathfinder 2e

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 2 months ago

Note

What do you think of the show's seeming obsession with everyone (the leads especially) being the best and the top? Like, Marinette's parents don't just run a good bakery, they run the Best Bakery in all of Paris! Kitty Section gets a record deal with the city's top producer! Marinette is the personal designer of Jagged Stone! Alya runs a super popular video blog! Max isn't just the resident smart kid, he can make AI with real feelings!

Oh, but actually, Marinette and Adrien are also top of the class (the webisodes straight-up state Adrien is best in class, surpassing Max and Sabrina, and Marinette gets top grades in Chameleon despite all the workload), because how dare our leads be not good at something?

And that's not getting into "Marinette and Adrien are the best LB and CN ever" stuff. That part is best chalked up to Tikki and Plagg being encouraging, because otherwise the show dunks on all the historical figures they made holders, all at once.

Anyway, with everyone in class being a) hyper talented and famous or b) related to some big nabob, it's not surprising that fans thought it was some elite private school. But no, it's apparently a regular state school (holy smokes, why would Andre and Gabriel send their children to a regular state school??)

That would work in a story where comical exaggeration was the absolute norm, but seems like Miraculous tries to be grotesque and realistic at the same time and fails at both.

Oh look, it's time to talk about Kim Possible again! Phineas and Ferb, too. I'll even use My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic to really drive this one home.

It's incredibly normal for episodic kids shows to have the cast be ridiculously talented and connected. They do this for a couple of reasons.

The first reason is that the characters are meant to be stagnant. Every episode stands alone so there's no time for true character growth. That means that the characters need to be their best selves right from day one. Kim Possible doesn't have time to let Kim learn to fight and be awesome. That's just her default state.

Small life lessons may be taught as we see in both Kim Possible and My Little Pony, but you can miss an episode and still understand the characters because those life lessons didn't really matter to the characters. They weren't there as part of some major character journey. They were there for the kids at home.

The second reason is that kids shows star kids and teens. You don't want adults to be too involved, but sometimes you want "adult" powers and so the kid and teen characters get ridiculous upgrades. A great example is Wade from Kim Possible. Wade is Kim's tech guy. He's also 10-years-old. Absurd? Yes, but they wanted Kim to have cool teach while also keeping the reoccurring hero cast mostly teens and kids and so we get Wade. Phineas and Ferb is another example of this. The titular characters are shown doing things like welding even though they're around 10. This happens because they need to have ridiculous skills for the show to work.

The third reason is that the more connected the characters are, the more stories you can tell. If Marinette's parents don't have a successful and popular bakery, then they can't be hired to cater major events like a movie premier. If Kitty Section isn't wildly successful, then they won't get invited to appear on TV.

This is why Kim Possible made Kim's dad a rocket scientist. It let the show use rockets and advanced tech in several episode. There's at least one where they go to space! The main character of My Little Pony is the student of the kingdom's ruler, allowing the show to include princesses and have plot lines around things ranging from royal balls to diplomatic missions. Things they couldn't do if it was just about some random ponies with no connections.

Some kids shows keep the characters more normal and stick to more realistic hijinks, but when your show is about magic and superheroes, it makes sense to go big.

The reason Miraculous' version of these things doesn't work for some people is probably because of our ever present issue: Miraculous feels too serialized. There's too much connective tissue for the characters to get away with being stagnant. The lessons they "learn" are too big to just go away never to be touched on again. They are not their best selves from day one. They actually do need to grow! This makes the things they're good at feel hollow to some because the show didn't set Marinette and Adrien up the way Kim Possible set up Kim and Ron or the way Phineas and Ferb set up its leads. The character's adult skills don't fit their very real flaws.

Similarly, the show has added all these celebrity connections and then done stuff that makes it feel like those connections should matter to the plot when that's not the way this is usually played. My Little Pony kept Princess Celestia well removed from the things Twilight and her friends were getting up to. It never felt like she should step in. She had a kingdom to run! The show also never treated Twilight's connection as a big deal. Celestia might be the country's ruler, but she's very down to earth. She doesn't feel all that special.

Meanwhile, in Miraculous, the celebrities are treated like celebrities, they often have close ties to the cast, and they are actively around, making it feel like they should play a part in the story at times. The big example is, as always, Lila's lies. Many of them should fall apart because of who the cast knows or, conversely, the cast shouldn't care about Lila's celebrity friends because they have those friends, too. Princess Fragrance was a season one episode and gave Rose a close friendship with Prince Ali that is confirmed to be ongoing in season four's Guiltrip, making it deeply confusing when Rose never catches on to Lila's bullshit. You're really telling me that Rose never once talked to her good friend Ali about her good friend Lila? Really? Rose? Little miss loves-to-talk-about-her-friends-and-how-much-she-love-them? Sure, writers. Sure.

In summary, the problem isn't that the characters are too cool, connected, and talented, it's how those ideas were executed. There are versions of the show where the characters are fine being the best things ever and versions of the show where those elements should have been toned back. I can't really say which canon should have done because canon is a mess of episodic stories and serialized elements that has no idea what it's trying to be.

#alexunbroken #kim possible #ml writing critical #ml writing salt #adrien deserves better #marinette deserves better #everyone deserves better #formula show problems

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